


twenty-three

by kiyala



Series: soulbonding [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fingerfucking, First Time, Forced Marriage, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Rimming, Soul Bond, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-28
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:12:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their eyes meet on Grantaire's twenty-third birthday, his entire life goes to shit. A story about finding your soulmate, and figuring out how to love them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twenty-three

**Author's Note:**

> My most sincere thanks to [jaye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jayeinacross), who put up with my flailing from the day I came up with the idea to the day I finished it. Thank you, as always, to my [pie](http://piecrmbs.tumblr.com/) for holding my hand. And thanks to [Joly Bean](http://jolybean.tumblr.com/) for the cheer-leading!

Grantaire looks forward to his twenty-third birthday the way he looks forward to any other day; with equal measures of apathy and vodka. He's seen people spend the week leading up to their twenty-third in a constant state of excitement.

From the very second people turn twenty-three, they're finally at the age where they can find their other half, forming a bond that will last for the rest of their lives. It's romantic and hopeful and Grantaire hates the entire concept of it. Each person has one soulmate out there, but it's a big world. For all the hype, Grantaire can count the number of bonded couples he's seen on one hand.

So when Jehan asks if there's going to be a big party, Grantaire laughs in his face.

"Are you seriously asking me that? _Fuck_ no."

He's in the beer garden of the local pub with his friends, a week before his birthday. He couldn't care less about it if he tried.

"See, I get why you wouldn't," Feuilly says, taking a long drag of his cigarette, "but think of it this way. Big party? Lots of booze."

"Well." Grantaire licks his lips as he considers it. "When you put it like that…"

From there, his friends organise the party with terrifying efficiency. Grantaire barely needs to do anything, and that's absolutely fine by him. Bahorel knows a guy who can get them a hall to hold the party in. Grantaire pays more attention to his drink than the plans, but that doesn't really surprise anyone. He's not all that fussed anyway, and his friends know what he likes. They take care of the invites and all Grantaire really needs to do is show up.

Traditionally, twenty-third parties are meant to be held so that the person is around as many people as possible when they actually turn twenty-three. A few dozen people off the list of potential soulmates, a few billion to go. Grantaire doesn't actually care, but it turns out he was born at roughly eight o'clock at night, so it works anyway.

There are more people there than Grantaire expects, and he's pretty sure that's Jehan's doing; he's still young and naive, but Grantaire appreciates the effort, even if he thinks it's pointless.

He's already half-drunk when most of his actual friends start to arrive. Bahorel and Feuilly have been there setting everything up since the afternoon. Jehan and Bossuet show up, then Eponine and Marius. Then Combeferre and Courfeyrac arrive, with Enjolras.

"Shit, Apollo actually came?" Grantaire looks at Bahorel with a raised eyebrow. "He deigned to party with the rest of us, huh? What the hell did you say to actually convince him to come?"

Bahorel doesn't bother replying. He knows that Grantaire's just trying to cover up his rising panic.

Enjolras being here should mean absolutely nothing to Grantaire. _Should_. The problem is that it means everything.

In a world where there's a one in seven billion chance of finding the soulmate you are meant to be bonded with, there's a lot of people in love without actually being bonded. Grantaire has been in love with Enjolras for almost as long as they've known each other.

He sits there, staring at Enjolras, who has his head bowed as he speaks to Combeferre. He really shouldn't be staring, and he knows that, but he's not sober enough to look away.

Bahorel nudges him and then nods at the clock hanging on the wall. "Hey, it's nearly eight."

"Fuck that," Grantaire mutters, going to get himself another drink.

As the clock ticks down to the exact time of his birth—seven minutes after eight—Grantaire drinks more. He downs a bottle and is halfway through another when the countdown starts.

He shoots a dark look at his mother, who starts it. Most people join in. The people who know Grantaire well stay silent.

When they reach _one_ and start cheering, he nods in thanks. Bahorel pats him on the back, and Feuilly clinks their glasses together.

The party continues as normal after that. It's customary to wish people after the actual time of their twenty-third birthday. Grantaire thanks them all, sharing drinks with most.

"How are you still even standing after having that much?" Courfeyrac asks, sounding impressed.

Grantaire simply grins in response. Combeferre raises his bottle with a murmured, "happy birthday," before stepping aside.

Enjolras is next. He walks closer to Grantaire, and their eyes meet. Which is about the time Grantaire's entire life goes to shit.

He's _heard_ about the bond, sure. Like every other kid in school, he's read about it, how it happens and how it's meant to feel.

It's absolutely nothing compared to the actual thing. He can't look away from Enjolras, he can't even _move_ and it's not the pleasant feeling that everyone imagines it to be. It's terrifying; raw and desperate, like he's just a shell, a container for the sudden rush of emotion that rushes through him. It's like a punch to the gut, breathtaking and unpleasantly sobering.

Courfeyrac is the first to realise what's going on and his immediate reaction is, "No fucking way."

That, of course, draws more attention than Grantaire has ever wanted. Enjolras is still staring at him, looking just as paralysed.

"Kiss him!" someone shouts in the background and before this moment, Grantaire would have given anything to do so.

Even now, every fibre of his being wants to reach out for Enjolras, to be as close to him as possible. He can see Enjolras clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides, and nobody ever told him that a bond would be this _difficult_ to deal with.

" _Kiss, kiss, kiss_ ," several people have taken up the chant, and Grantaire just wants the ground to swallow him whole.

Turning around, he pushes his way through the crowd. He needs to get out. He needs to get _away_. He's thankful that nobody follows.

«·»

Grantaire is sitting on the steps outside the hall, his hands shaking as he holds a half-burned cigarette to his lips. He doesn't turn when he hears the door open behind him, continuing to stare out into the pitch black football field in front of him.

"Hey." Enjolras' quiet voice _does_ make him look up. "I don't suppose you'd have a spare cigarette."

Grantaire stares as Enjolras sits down beside him. "Didn't know you smoked."

Enjolras shrugs. "I don't smoke all that often, but when the situation calls for it…"

"Right." Grantaire digs his pack out of his jacket pocket. "Same. I figured that by the end of the night, I'd need a smoke. Just… not exactly for this reason."

Enjolras laughs quietly. "Yeah."

Grantaire flicks his lighter and Enjolras leans in. He's beautiful in the warm glow of the tiny flame. Grantaire swallows hard and looks away.

Enjolras exhales, his shoulders relaxing as he does. He briefly glances at Grantaire before looking away. "I'd say _happy birthday_ , but…"

Grantaire laughs, shaking his head. "Yeah."

They both shift, freezing when their shoulders brush against each other. Grantaire raises his cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag before dropping it on the ground and putting it out with his shoe.

"Are you okay?" Enjolras asks, and he sounds so sincerely concerned that it makes Grantaire's chest hurt.

"Tell me how this feels for you." Grantaire doesn't look at Enjolras as he speaks, playing with his lighter instead. "Because for me, it's like my head's gotten _louder_ , with all this white noise that doesn't shut up unless I'm near you."

"That's temporary, until the bond gets settled," Enjolras points out. "You've read the books."

"I didn't pay any attention to them," Grantaire replies, shaking his head. "I didn't think they'd ever be relevant."

"Well." Enjolras reaches over, placing his hand on top of Grantaire's. "This helps with the white noise."

It really does. Grantaire knows that a bond urges people together so it can then strengthen. That happens through physical contact, which is why he just wants Enjolras' arms around him. That, and the fact that it's something he's wanted for a long time anyway.

"I'm sorry about what happened in there, with the chanting," Enjolras says.

Grantaire laughs softly, shaking his head. "You shouldn't be apologising for that."

"Well, someone ought to, and I think I scared everyone off when I told them exactly why their behaviour was unacceptable."

"In great detail?" Grantaire asks with a grin.

"Of course."

Laughing louder this time, Grantaire leans against Enjolras a little more. Enjolras squeezes his hand, and it seems pointless to deny something that they both want. They turn to each other, noses brushing. Underneath the layer of cigarette smoke, Grantaire gets hints of the smell he's long since associated with Enjolras and committed to memory; sharp, spicy and masculine. When Grantaire licks his lips, his tongue brushes against Enjolras' lower lip too.

"Is it okay if I…?" Enjolras shifts his weight, tilting his head.

"Yeah," Grantaire breathes. Their fingers interlock, and he can't even remember holding Enjolras' hand in the first place. "…Yeah."

Their lips are soft against each other, and Grantaire pulls back for a brief moment before Enjolras pulls him back in. They kiss harder this time, lips firm against each other. The white noise is almost entirely gone, replaced instead with a reluctance to ever let Enjolras out of reach.

They pull apart with a quiet smack of lips against each other and Enjolras gives Grantaire a small smile. Grantaire automatically smiles back, part of him still terrified about this whole thing, but most of him just wanting to kiss Enjolras again.

This time they kiss deeper, lips parting against each other. Their tongues brush against each other and Grantaire leans in even more. Enjolras moans softly and Grantaire wants to draw that sound from him again. He wants to learn exactly what Enjolras likes best, he wants to do absolutely everything he can to make sure Enjolras is _happy_ —

"Wait," Grantaire gasps, jerking away. He shuffles back, getting some space between them. "This isn't… I can't do this, Enjolras. Not with you."

The hurt flickers across Enjolras' expression for less than a second before he masks it with a blank look. "Not with me? What do you mean by that, Grantaire? Do you think we have a _choice_?"

"This isn't how I want you," Grantaire growls. "I don't want you just because you don't think you have a choice."

"We don't," Enjolras replies evenly. "Or were you not paying attention when we were learning about this whole thing works? You know that this bond overrules… _everything_. The bond is rare enough to be made at all that if two people find each other…"

"…They're expected to get married within a year of their bond being first established," Grantaire finishes. In all the cases they've studied, the bond has grown so deep that the people don't even feel like they're being forced into it. "Fuck that."

"And due to the nature of the bond," Enjolras continues, "it immediately nullifies any relationships formed prior to finding your other half, to be replaced by the bonded partnership."

Grantaire shakes his head. "Doesn't that sound screwed up to you?"

Enjolras looks away, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "I was about six years old when my father found his other half. He loved me and my mother, I'm sure, but how could we compare to the one person he was meant to be with? He didn't want to leave us, and he felt guilty about it. His new wife felt terrible as well, but… what could any of us do? We don't have a choice in the matter, Grantaire. Nobody does."

"I can't believe you, of all people, would be happy to just accept that," Grantaire mutters.

"I'm not saying I _like_ it. I hate not being in control of things, and I can't stand not being in control of how I _feel_."

"See, that's the thing." Grantaire balls his hands into fists. "You… like me, care about me, whatever you want to call it, because of the bond. Take that away and you're just left with… nothing. But with me, you take the bond away and _nothing changes_. Sure, maybe I'll get rid of all the goddamn noise in my head. Maybe I'll even be a bit happier. But the way I feel about you? That doesn't change at all, okay? I didn't need the bond before and if all it means is that I get you against your will, I sure as hell don't need it now."

Enjolras frowns, reaching out, but Grantaire gets to his feet, shaking his head. "I haven't had anything close to  enough alcohol to be okay with that much honesty. So if you don't mind, I'm going to get myself so drunk that I can't actually feel anything."

If Enjolras calls his name as he walks away, it's drowned out by the white noise.

«·»

Grantaire wakes up the next afternoon in his room with all the blinds shut and a bucket beside his bed. His head is pounding and the white noise is right there, and that's all he has time to register before he leans over to the bucket, emptying the contents of his stomach into it.

He groans, his head getting progressively louder, until he crawls back under his covers.

"You're up," Feuilly says, poking his head into the room.

"Just leave me here to die," Grantaire grumbles, pulling his covers down.

"Pretty sure Enjolras would kill me if I let that happen."

"If you mention him again, I'm going to throw something at you," Grantaire threatens.

"He was worried about you, okay?" Feuilly walks into the room, picking up the glass of water on Grantaire's bedside table. "Now, if you promise not to throw this at me, Enjolras left a couple of painkillers behind for you."

Grantaire glares at Feuilly, but downs the tablets and sets the glass back down on the table. "Wait, _he_ did?"

Feuilly sighs. "You don't remember much from last night, do you?"

"Unfortunately, I remember everything right up to the point where I decided I was going to drink myself stupid."

"About that…" Feuilly grimaces. "I think it did more harm than good?"

Grantaire's stomach sinks. "…What happened?"

Running a hand through his hair, Feuilly opens his mouth, shuts it, and then finally says, "Enjolras went to find you after a while and… you weren't exactly happy to see him."

Grantaire snorts. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"…And you'd already had a lot to drink. You kind of started yelling at him about your bond, and then introduced him to the rest of the bar, letting them all know just how _thrilled_ you were about being forced into marriage. I'm pretty sure that at some point in the night, you invited them all to your wedding, too."

"Sarcasm." Grantaire winces. He knows, from plenty of experience, just how much Enjolras hates when he's being sarcastic.

"He brought you home and asked me to keep an eye on you. He said he'll be back to check on you later."

Grantaire leans back against the wall behind him, shoulders slumping. "Great."

Enjolras turns up at his apartment no more than half an hour later. Grantaire is in the shower and walks out with a towel around his waist to find Enjolras in his kitchen talking to Feuilly. Grantaire freezes in place for a moment and Enjolras stares at him, gaze going down his torso before snapping back up to meet his eyes.

Grantaire keeps walking to his room, suddenly feeling self-conscious. By the time he gets dressed and leaves his room, Feuilly's gone.

"Hey," Grantaire says quietly, extremely conscious of the fact that this is the first time they've ever been alone together out of choice. There have been times when they've been the first to arrive at group outings, or the last to leave, but that's different. Then again, Grantaire doesn't know if this counts as _choice_.

Enjolras doesn't reply. His brow is furrowed and Grantaire can see the residual embarrassment and anger from last night in his eyes.

"Tea? Coffee?" Grantaire asks, mostly to fill the silence, crossing the kitchen to get the coffee machine started.

"Coffee's fine," Enjolras replies, and Grantaire can feel his gaze. Grantaire's entire being is crying out for contact again. When he passes Enjolras a mug of coffee and their fingers brush against each other, he isn't even sure it's an accident.

Neither of them move away for a moment. Then, Enjolras takes his mug, both hands curling around it. Grantaire does the same to his own, mostly to keep himself from reaching out again.

"How are you feeling now?" Enjolras asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Better. Thank you. I was probably a mess last night." Grantaire smiles wryly. "If I were you, I would have just left me where I was."

"I couldn't," Enjolras replies with complete honesty and that would be enough to have Grantaire brooding about the bond again if not for the fact that Enjolras wouldn't leave _anyone_.

They sip their coffee in silence until Enjolras sighs with frustration. "Can we please stop this? Ignoring the issue isn't going to make it disappear."

Grantaire smiles without humour. "Is that a challenge?"

Enjolras gives him an unimpressed look. Grantaire turns away, taking a long sip of his coffee.

"Grantaire…" Enjolras reaches out, and Grantaire knows that he should be moving away so Enjolras _can't_ touch him, because that only makes things worse. He doesn't, feeling Enjolras' strong fingers grip his arm. It's impossible to break Enjolras' gaze.

"We have to deal with this, okay? Because if anything, ignoring it is going to make things worse and I, for one, _don't_ want to know just how much worse things can get. Yes, we've lost a certain degree of choice—"

"I don't believe that," Grantaire snaps, shaking Enjolras' hand off. "We always have a choice, okay? You keep asking me if I believe in anything. I believe in _that_."

"Tell me what kind of choice you think you have," Enjolras replies evenly, his brows drawn together.

"We have two options. We can either love each other, or we can be miserable."

"Is it really such a terrible thought to _love me_ that you'd rather be miserable?" Enjolras asks, and he looks so hurt that Grantaire wants to break something.

" _No_ , Apollo. Fuck no, that's not it at all. What I'm saying is that I'd rather be miserable than have you love me because you think you have to."

"But…"

"Look. I love you, okay?" Grantaire hates the way it makes Enjolras automatically smile when a mere twenty four hours ago, it would have made him frown or worse, _laugh_. "No. I loved you. I loved you before all of this and back then, I would have given anything for you to love me back. Anything but your own free will."

"Grantaire—"

"Don't." Grantaire holds a hand up between them, stopping Enjolras before he can move closer. "Please don't."

"What do you want me to do?" Enjolras asks, hands balling into fists in frustration. "If I could make the bond disappear, I would. But I can't."

Grantaire doesn't know how to reply to that. What he _wants_ is for Enjolras to love him because he wants to, not because of their bond. He knows better than to say that aloud.

They lapse into silence, finishing their coffee. Enjolras goes to the sink to wash his mug and Grantaire doesn't even bother trying to stop him.

"My mother wants to meet your parents," Enjolras says at length. "Preferably soon. We could all go for dinner."

Grantaire snorts quietly. "And why do I have the feeling that you're going to expect me to tag along?"

Enjolras' expression immediately hardens. "I do."

"Fine," Grantaire says with a heavy sigh. He notices that Enjolras relaxes a little at that and adds, "I won't need to be sober for it anyway."

"Actually."

Grantaire laughs at that, shaking his head. "Really, Apollo? You're expecting me to go anywhere near my parents without being incredibly drunk first?"

"My mother wants to meet them," Enjolras says, his voice taking on the tone that says he's getting angry. "This means a lot to her. It means a lot to _your_ parents too, from what I gathered at your birthday party."

"You're not going to like this," Grantaire warns.

"And you," Enjolras replies firmly, "are not going to embarrass me like you did last night. Yes, we might be bonded, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to let you act however you want at my expense. Is that clear?"

There have been several times in the past when Enjolras has used this same tone of voice with him, angry and commanding and _disappointed_. It's unpleasant at the best of times, but with the bond—with the constant voice in the back of Grantaire's head telling him how much he wants to make Enjolras happy—it suddenly feels much, much worse.

"Is that clear?" Enjolras repeats.

"Yeah." Grantaire replies quietly, looking away. "Yeah, we'll do the dinner. Whatever. Tell me when and where, and I'll be there."

«·»

Grantaire isn't surprised when Enjolras texts him the address of the fanciest restaurant nearby, along with instructions to wear a suit.

He's equally unsurprised to arrive and notice the fact that his parents look perfectly at ease in this environment, in all the ways that he _isn't_. Enjolras' mother is sitting beside them and she's beautiful, just like Enjolras, from the blonde curls to the way she carries herself.

Enjolras' hand is at the small of Grantaire's back. He'd insisted on picking Grantaire up, most probably to make sure he wasn't getting himself drunk beforehand. It's strange to have Enjolras sticking so closely to his side, to be touching him so often.

Grantaire knows that it's for show, that Enjolras wants to act like the bond is something they're _happy_ about. He notices the way Enjolras' mother beams when she sees them, and he sighs. Maybe he can play along for just one night.

It doesn't work particularly well. Not with his parents there. They talk about how glad they are that Enjolras has some direction and some idea of what he's doing, and that perhaps it will inspire Grantaire to do more with his own life than waste it away drawing silly pictures. Grantaire grins and bears it, because that's what he always does. He declines multiple offers of wine, sticking to water. He spends more time eating than he does talking.

Halfway through the main course, Grantaire's father brings up the marriage. Grantaire has been waiting for it, but that doesn't stop him from tightly curling his fingers around the handle of his knife.

Enjolras notices immediately, reaching for Grantaire's hand and pulling it down, under the table. He manages to disguise it as a display of affection. When Grantaire squeezes hard, he squeezes right back.

"We were thinking as soon as possible," Grantaire's mother says brightly. "I mean, what's the point of waiting an entire year?"

"I'm happy leaving it for a year," Grantaire replies.

"You're happy to leave anything for as long as you possibly can," Grantaire's father dismisses. "Enjolras? What do you think?"

"I…" Enjolras looks completely off-guard, and at least Grantaire can enjoy _that_. "I'm also fine to wait closer to a year."

"Though of course with the bond," Grantaire speaks up with a grin, "we might not want to wait that long. Don't you think, Apollo?"

Enjolras' eyes narrow slightly. "Oh, if I'd know you were so _eager_ , I would have suggested a closer date myself."

They stare each other down for a brief moment, neither of them willing to back down. Grantaire knows that this isn't going to end well, but even that isn't enough to make him stop.

They walk away from the dinner officially engaged to marry in six months. Grantaire's parents already have a town house set aside for them to move into as soon as possible. They'll be getting the keys tomorrow, along with their engagement rings.

"I warned you," is all Grantaire says, once they're the only two left standing in front of the restaurant .

"You could have been a little more specific," Enjolras spits.

Grantaire sighs heavily and rubs his eyes. "I need a fucking drink. _Are you okay with that_?"

"Just remember that we're meeting your parents tomorrow at noon for the keys," Enjolras replies. He sounds just as exhausted as Grantaire feels. "Please be there."

"I'll think about it."

Enjolras reaches for his hand. It's not the same threateningly tight grip from before. If it were anybody else, Grantaire would say they were _scared_. The word doesn't seem to work with Enjolras.

"Please," Enjolras repeats, and Grantaire simply nods, squeezing Enjolras' hand in return before letting go.

When Grantaire actually shows up on time the next day, Enjolras looks surprised. Grantaire doesn't blame him. He'd called Bahorel almost immediately after leaving the restaurant and they'd gone to the nearest bar with the intention of getting thoroughly drunk. Every time Grantaire had reached for his bottle, however, he'd thought, _I'm getting married to Enjolras in six months_ , and spent most of the night paralysed with fear.

Grantaire's parents make them wait for fifteen minutes before they finally show up. Grantaire's already smoked his way through one cigarette, sitting on the front step of the house. Enjolras has his phone out and judging by his frown, and the half-conversations Grantaire hears, he's doing whatever work he can manage while he's not at the law firm where he works part-time. They barely speak to each other, except to greet each other and when Grantaire had offered Enjolras a cigarette. They're both tense, and when Grantaire's parents arrive, they only get worse.

"Shall we?" Grantaire's father asks, like they actually have a choice in the matter. As if they're here inspecting a house because they want it, not because it's going to be theirs whether they like it or not.

That said, it _is_ a nice house; far nicer than Grantaire can afford on his own, and probably more than he and Enjolras could afford to rent even if they pooled their money together. Grantaire knows that this is not a product of his parents' generosity. It's a reminder of the life they'd always wanted for him, making money from a job that made him miserable, instead of doing something he actually enjoys, even if that means being careful with how he spends his money. He cheerfully ignores this fact; something that he's become quite good at, out of necessity.

There are three rooms upstairs; the first is a home office with plenty of room, and Grantaire can see Enjolras admiring it, mentally sorting his belongings into it. There's another room that isn't furnished beyond the built-in wardrobe, with a large window that lets a good amount of light in. It's much better than the tiny space Grantaire is currently using to paint.

They reach the third room at the same time and pause in the doorway. It's the bedroom. The one bedroom in the entire house.

"There's a double bed," Grantaire hears himself saying, his voice quiet.

"Of course," his mother replies, like this is the most obvious thing in the world. "You're going to be _married_ , dear."

He looks over at Enjolras, who stares back silently in return. Turning away with a heavy sigh, Grantaire drags his fingers through his hair. "I hog the covers."

"We'll work it out," Enjolras replies, but not even he can manage to sound convincing.

"Now," Grantaire's mother says with a smile. "Your rings."

She has two boxes with her. Grantaire doesn't even know how she'd managed to acquire them so quickly. She hands him the box with an _E_ embossed onto the lid and he groans.

"Really? You're making me do this?"

What's worse is that Enjolras is given a box with a _G_ , not an R. Grantaire catches the slight frown that Enjolras gives it—even he knows it's wrong.

"How about a photo?" Grantaire's father asks.

"How about no." Grantaire puts the box into his pocket. "Look, I appreciate everything you've done, and the house is great, but this isn't your bond, it's ours, so let _us_ deal with it, okay?"

"Leave it to you?" Grantaire's mother frowns. "Darling, nothing would ever get _done_."

"We'll manage," Enjolras speaks up, standing beside Grantaire so that their shoulders brush against each other. "We can do it."

It should irritate Grantaire that this immediately puts his parents at ease but mostly, he's just glad that they're leaving.

"I was going to have to renew my lease at the end of the week," Grantaire says, and then shrugs. "Guess I won't have to any more."

"And I talked to Combeferre about this. I didn't want to leave him hanging without someone to split rent with, but Courfeyrac said he'll move in when I move out."

Grantaire snorts quietly. "Well, that works out nicely."

"So when are we doing this?" Enjolras asks.

"Next weekend?" Grantaire asks. "Gives us a bit to pack our things—"

"Not that," Enjolras replies, holding up his ring box.

"Oh." Grantaire's hand goes to his pocket, pulling out the box with Enjolras' ring in it. He holds it out. "Here."

Enjolras takes his, giving Grantaire's his own in exchange. They're both plain silver bands. Enjolras puts his own and snaps his box shut. There's no ceremony, no hesitation, nothing. Grantaire is slower to put his ring on. It's a solid, heavy weight on his hand. 

They both have a set of keys to the house, so they part ways. Enjolras has class that afternoon and Grantaire has commissions to return to. 

"I guess I'll see you later," Grantaire says, feeling odd just walking away.

Enjolras stops him with a light touch to his arm. He doesn't even need to initiate the kiss, Grantaire steps into his arms without a second thought. Their lips brush against each other and even that is enough to have Grantaire immediately feeling better. He's been resisting the constant urge to do this since he'd left Enjolras sitting alone at his birthday party.

Enjolras' hand comes up to rest on Grantaire's back, holding him in place as they kiss again. This feels far too easy for something so new to them, but most of Grantaire's mind doesn't want to dwell on that, wanting to focus on the kiss instead.

They pull apart, lips wet, hearts racing, and Grantaire takes a step back before he manages to convince himself that he doesn't want to leave at all.

"See you later," he says again and this time, Enjolras repeats it to him, sounding dazed.

«·»

Courfeyrac asks when they're having their engagement party. Bahorel wants to know when they're having a housewarming party.

Enjolras decides that they'll do it before they actually move their belongings in, so they don't have to worry about anything getting broken. Grantaire would laugh, but he's pretty sure that he's one of the main reasons that this is a concern in the first place. 

With just the minimal furniture already in the house, there's more place for everyone. It makes it easier for Grantaire to avoid Enjolras and thankfully, none of his friends call him out on it. He sits in one corner with Bahorel, Jehan and Feuilly, who keep him happily drunk without letting him have too much.

At some point during the night, Marius arrives on his own. He's got the same faraway look in his face that he's worn for months, now. Something twists uncomfortably in Grantaire's chest as he realises exactly why that is.

It must have been two and a half months ago that Marius had shown up to the social justice meetings that Enjolras held in cafe near the university, the same dazed look in his eyes. Back then, it had been a happier look. He explained that he was certain he'd found his other half, only to immediately lose her in the crowd. Grantaire had laughed at him for it, just as they all had. If there was one person in the entire world likely to find their perfect match only to immediately lose them without any hint of where they'd gone or who they were, it was Marius. 

Over time, he's grown quieter with a tendency to become lost in his thoughts and Grantaire has first-hand experience of exactly why that is.

"Marius," he calls, gesturing with his bottle. "Come join us."

Accepting the bottle that he's given, Marius clinks it against Grantaire's. "Congratulations."

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. It's the first time anyone has said that to him al night, and he certainly hadn't been expecting it to come from _Marius_.

"It's a wonderful feeling, isn't it? Being in love." Marius smiles against the mouth of his bottle, and Grantaire cannot tell whether or not he is joking.

"If by _wonderful_ you actually mean painful and unpleasant, yeah." Grantaire leans closer to Marius so that he can lower his voice. "I start getting restless when I go a few hours without being in Apollo's presence. I can't even imagine how bad it must be for you."

Marius' smile dims a little at that and he sighs. "That part isn't as pleasant, but every single time I even _think_ about her…"

Enjolras is on the other side of the room, talking to Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly and Bossuet. Whatever he's talking about, he's entirely engrossed in the conversation, gesticulating to emphasise his points. His eyes are bright and his lips are pink. Grantaire loves him in a way he can't find words for, not even in his own mind. It's something expressed by the ache of his heart, and the way that even in the crowded room, it feels like Enjolras is the only one who exists.

"You see?" Marius has a smile on his face. "It's a beautiful feeling."

It makes Grantaire down the rest of his bottle in two gulps. It makes him want to get up and run—to Enjolras, from Enjolras, he can't actually tell.

"Uh huh," he replies, dutifully taking the tall glass of water that Jehan is making him drink between bottles.

"Though, to be completely honest, I'm jealous and a little baffled," Marius says. "I don't even know her name, while you know Enjolras. You're going to be _living_ with him. Yet you're on opposite ends of the room, looking over when the other one isn't looking. When I find my other half again, I don't think you could remove me from her side if you tried."

" _When_ ," Grantaire repeats, unable to stop himself from shaking his head with an incredulous laugh. "Do you really think you will?"

"I have to," Marius replies simply. "I go back to the place I first saw her, every single week."

"You saw her in a mall and you haven't seen her again in the past two and a half months. What if she moved away? What if—"

"Grantaire," Jehan interrupts him, his tone firm. "You're upsetting Marius. And yourself, I think."

Grantaire sets his half-empty glass on the table and sighs heavily. He runs a hand over his face and speaks in a small voice, "What if bonds just don't end up working out for people?"

Bahorel kicks Grantaire's shoe gently, admonishing and sympathising at the same time. "That's not how it works."

"Do you actually know that?" Grantaire asks. "Do you know, with complete certainty, that it doesn't just… wear off later, or something? And people just end up staying together out of obligation, or because it's been so long that they might as well just keep doing it—"

"You're in love with him," Marius realises. "I mean. Of _course_ you are, but even before you turned twenty-three."

Grantaire lets out a pained laugh. "Really, what gave it away?"

"Isn't that a _good_ thing?" Marius frowns, confused.

"Look at it this way. You said that when you saw your girl, it was like a light…"

"A burst of light, yes."

"I didn't feel that," Grantaire replies. "The way I feel about him hasn't changed, hasn't gotten any more intense. The only change is that before, I knew it was completely one-sided and I was pretty okay just living my life being in love with him. Now? I'm constantly feeling like I _need_ him. Like I won't be happy until he's mine and after that, I'll just be constantly afraid I can't actually keep him. And I'm judging by your expression that feeling this way isn't just a general _bond_ thing."

"That sounds pretty horrible, actually," Feuilly comments, and Jehan nods in silent agreement.

"So what do you want… you want Enjolras to love you back, but not because of the bond?" Bahorel asks. "Is that… how would you even be able to tell?"

"Well, right now, I can tell that he _doesn't_ ," Grantaire points out. "…I don't know. I'll work it out later. Jehan, I need another drink."

There's still water in his glass, but nobody bothers pointing that out as Grantaire opens his fifth beer bottle of the night.

By the time the party wraps up—at something close to three in the morning—Grantaire is half-asleep, holding an empty bottle to his chest as he sits back on the couch.

"You look like you enjoyed yourself," Enjolras murmurs, taking the bottle away and draping a blanket over Grantaire. "I hope these aren't all because of me."

"Not _all_ of them," Grantaire replies sleepily. 

He reaches for Enjolras' hand, their fingers entwining. He realises that Enjolras is still wearing his engagement ring. Grantaire had taken his off not even half an hour after putting it on. It's sitting in its box, at the bottom of the suitcase he's packed full of belongings that he'll be moving into the house.

"Good night." Enjolras runs his fingers through Grantaire's hair. Softer, he adds, "Love you."

 _No you don't_ , Grantaire thinks, and perhaps he says it out loud, because the hand in his hair is gone, and Enjolras is walking away.

Grantaire sighs, eyes sliding shut. Enjolras can get as annoyed as he wants. Doesn't stop it from being true.

«·»

Grantaire wakes up without a hangover, which he credits fully to Jehan. It's close to noon, but when he checks the bedroom, Enjolras is still asleep. Enjolras is also half-naked, having taken his shirt off before going to bed. Grantaire swallows hard and walks back downstairs to the kitchen, looking for something to eat, glad that Enjolras had the foresight to stock the fridge before the party.

There's bread, butter and eggs, so Grantaire makes himself scrambled eggs on toast. He can hear Enjolras stirring upstairs, so he toasts a couple more slices of bread, and cracks more eggs.

"Morning," Enjolras greets as he enters the kitchen.

"Only just," Grantaire replies, turning around. Enjolras has ridiculous bed head, his blond curls sticking up all over the place. Grantaire doubts that his is any better. "I made breakfast."

"Mm, I'll make coffee then." Enjolras gets two mugs out of the cupboard.

It feels oddly domestic, and Grantaire wonders if this is what they'll be like every morning.

Enjolras gets Grantaire's coffee wrong twice, and it turns out that he prefers his bread more toasted than Grantaire does.

"We'll work it out." Enjolras fiddles with the toaster's settings while Grantaire makes his own coffee.

"I can't wait until I move my coffee machine into here. So much better than instant."

"Can I use it?" Enjolras asks, and that makes Grantaire frown.

"Uh… yes? Of course you can. I thought that was obvious? What's mine is yours and all, right?"

"But… _you're_ okay with it. Not just because you feel obligated—"

Grantaire laughs. "Apollo, if it means you're drinking decent coffee, then go for it. I really don't mind."

Before Enjolras can reply, Grantaire's phone goes off. It's a message from Bahorel.

"Bahorel wants to know when we're good to start moving our stuff in. He said he'd help and apparently, Jehan's decided he's tagging along too."

"I'm picking my things up from my old place at about two. Courfeyrac's already moved in, so he said he'll help as well."

"We'll meet here around three o'clock then," Grantaire decides, texting both Bahorel and Jehan to this effect.

Grantaire doesn't really have that much to bring with him other than his clothes and his art supplies. He has a few books, his video games, his old guitar and his coffee machine, which he packs into their separate boxes. The only big things he's bringing with him are his drawing table and easel. Even those are easy enough to manage on his own; he only really needs Bahorel and Jehan for the moral support.

Thankfully, they have plenty of it. Jehan declares that he has a surprise for them once they get to the new house. Grantaire and Bahorel exchange grins, certain that isn't going to be flowers, but they both keep quiet about it. 

Sure enough, when they pull up into the driveway of the new house, there's a bot of large, bright sunflowers on the doorstep. Even if Grantaire didn't already know, Jehan's wide smiles gives him away.

"Thank, Jehan I think that's the first housewarming present we've gotten."

This only makes Jehan smile even wider.

"Where's Enjolras?" Bahorel asks, checking the time. "I thought that allowing an hour to get all your stuff here was a really generous estimate."

Grantaire shrugs. "He's probably making sure he's packed everything in alphabetic order and has it written down on two different lists or something. Hopefully I can get all my stuff done before he arrives."

Grantaire's top priority is getting his studio set up. He's disassembled his drawing table and with Bahorel and Jehan helping, it's easy enough to carry the different pieces upstairs so that they can put it back together. Bahorel and Jehan carry the easel up while Grantaire takes his box of art supplies. He sets up his computer, tablet and scanner beside his drawing table, and the rest doesn't take very much work at all. There's already a large flat-screen TV to set his Playstation up to and once Grantaire has his clothes vaguely sorted into one half of the closet in the bedroom, he sets up his coffee machine and then pulls a few bottles of beer out of the fridge and finds a multiplayer game.

They're about ten minutes in when they hear Enjolras' car pulling into the driveway. Grantaire walks over to the window, frowning when he sees Combeferre's car pulling up against the curb, also packed with boxes.

"Well, I guess that would explain why they took so long," he murmurs, going to open the door.

It's just as well that Grantaire's already finished moving his things in, because Enjolras needs as much help as he can get. He's packed every single book he owns—and brought a spare bookshelf with him just in case the ones already in the study aren't enough. They've even packed in alphabetic order, just as Grantaire had joked.

Most of them are hardcover law textbooks and by the time the boxes have all been carried upstairs, they're all exhausted. 

"Don't even think about unpacking them now, Apollo. I refuse."

Courfeyrac, who is leaning against the wall, hums in agreement. Combeferre places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes. 

"I think we could all do with a break," Enjolras agrees.

"And a drink," Grantaire adds.

Bahorel nods enthusiastically. "Always a drink."

"There's a bar that's about a fifteen minute walk from here. I kind of feel like eating something too."

"Trust you to know that already," Enjolras says, but the words come out fond instead of exasperated. "Lead the way."

The six of them end up at the bar for two and a half hours. Bahorel doesn't live too far away, so he walks home afterwards, and Jehan goes with him to make sure he makes it home okay. Combeferre and Courfeyrac live further away, but neither of them are in any state to drive.

They crash on the couch downstairs as soon as the four of them get back to the house, Courfeyrac's head resting on Combeferre's chest. They're asleep in a matter of seconds and Grantaire gets a blanket for them. It's not even seven o'clock yet and Grantaire isn't particularly keen on letting the exhaustion get to him when he'd woken up so late this morning.

He has his coffee machine set up, so he makes himself a mug with two shots of espresso and takes it up to his studio. He passes Enjolras' study on the way and looks in through the open door, sighing when he sees Enjolras opening his boxes of books.

"Really?" he asks, leaning against the door jamb. "You're too drunk to drive your best friends home and _now_ is when you decide it would be a good idea to sort your books out?"

"If it bothers you that Combeferre and Courfeyrac are here—"

"I have no problem with them being cosy on our couch," Grantaire tells him. "You're not listening, Apollo. I'm not talking about them, I'm talking about you."

"What about me?" Enjolras asks, gesturing for Grantaire to come closer.

"You need to rest. You had a big night followed by a busy day."

Enjolras gives Grantaire's mug a pointed look. "Oh, because that's what you're doing." 

"That's different. I want to paint those sunflowers Jehan gave us. Preferably before they die."

"We can always buy more sunflowers to replace them. They look good out on the front step."

"Oh, I know that. They just won't be _Jehan's_ flowers then, will they?"

Enjolras smiles. "I didn't know that kind of thing mattered to you."

Grantaire can feel his own smile growing strained. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Apollo."

"I suppose that I'll be learning, then."

And just like that, the casual, relaxed mood of the day disappears as Grantaire remembers exactly what they're doing here.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

Grantaire, for his part, learns that Enjolras sleeping half-naked was definitely not a one-time occurrence. By the time Grantaire emerges from his studio after he's happened with all the detail work he's done on his painting of Jehan's sunflowers, Enjolras is already in bed.

The covers are down to his waist, just low enough that Grantaire can see the trail of drank blond hair that disappears past the waistband of Enjolras' pyjama pants.

Grantaire can't do this. He can't sleep in the same bed as Enjolras. Not when he himself is so awkward, still so unsure of what he actually wants.

The couch is empty now, Combeferre being sober enough to drive when he and Courfeyrac had woken up. Grantaire sits there now, tired but still feeling awake. He passes an hour playing video games on mute before going back into his studio, shutting the door before turning the light on so as not to disturb Enjolras. 

Drawing has always been a form of stress-relief for him and he needs that now. He needs something calming and familiar to cling to when his entire life has changed so drastically in the past week. He needs an anchor, when his mind is just full of that damned white noise that hasn't left him alone all this time.

He sketches whatever comes to mind, not really paying attention, and he's not the least bit surprised by the fact that he ends up sketching Enjolras over and over again. In one, he's frowning that familiar frown that is usually directed at Grantaire. In another, his lips are curved into a gentle smile. His cheeks are shaded in with the flush he had this afternoon after drinking two bottles of beer. Grantaire draws his eyes with that distant look they have when he's lost in thought. He draws them again, sharp and focused, the way they are when he runs one of their meetings.

By the time the sun begins the rise and Grantaire can hear birds outside his window, he's filled several pages with sketches of Enjolras. There are unfinished ones, where he's dozed off in the middle, leaving an incomplete study of Enjolras' nose, his hair, his hand with his engagement ring on his finger.

He hides the sketches under a stack of scrap paper when he hears Enjolras getting out of bed. He's glad he'd turned the light off when the sun started to rise. The door is still shut and soon enough, he can hear Enjolras' footsteps padding past and down the stairs. Grantaire takes a moment to collect himself and pack all his drawings away properly before opening the door and going downstairs.

From halfway down the stairs, he can see Enjolras in the kitchen, using the coffee machine the way Grantaire had taught him yesterday. His fingers are tapping restlessly against the counter and when Grantaire walks down the remaining stairs, he deliberately makes his footsteps louder.

Enjolras turns around immediately, his fingers going still. "R."

His voice is full of relief, like he was actually worried about where Grantaire had gone. Grantaire finds it impossible to suppress his grin at that thought.

Enjolras frowns, giving Grantaire another, assessing look. "Did you even sleep last night?"

"A bit," Grantaire replies with a shrug, and it's technically not a lie, if all his brief naps count.

Enjolras doesn't bother arguing the point with him. "I'm thinking of inviting my mother over for dinner tonight. Are you okay with that?"

"Fine," Grantaire nods. "Do I have to invite my parents over as well?"

"No," Enjolras replies, so quickly that it makes Grantaire laugh. 

"Well, at least we're already agreed on _some_ things," Grantaire points out with a grin. It's a start.

«·»

Enjolras can't cook to save his life. It's a fact that Grantaire takes delight in; not even his Apollo is perfect. He stands there for a while, arms folded across his chest as he watches Enjolras curse under his breath as he spills ingredients and burns food.

"Maybe you should just leave the cooking to me," he finally says, stepping into the kitchen and nudging Enjolras aside. "You know, in the interest of actually having edible food by the time your mother gets here. And a house that hasn't burned down."

Enjolras glares, but he relents. Standing to the side, he shoves his hands into his pockets. "I can't just stand here and let you do all the work, though."

"So tell me what you want me to make," Grantaire replies. "You lead, I'll follow. Simple."

Enjolras scoffs quietly, shaking his head. "You've never followed me anywhere."

Grantaire looks up from the onions he's caramelising and raises an eyebrow. "You really haven't been paying any attention, have you? Though I guess you never had a reason to, before."

With a sigh, Enjolras reaches for his arm. "Grantaire…"

"No, don't get me wrong." Grantaire shifts just out of Enjolras' reach. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I'm just telling it like it is."

Enjolras doesn't bring it up again, letting Grantaire cook in peace. He has everything finished with enough time for both of them to get ready. Enjolras has made sure that everything looks tidy, which is no small feat considering that they've only just moved in. 

"So," Grantaire murmurs, once he's changed out of his paint-spattered hoodie and into a clean button-up, "are we going to pretend we're a happy couple, for your mother's sake?"

Enjolras frowns, looking over his shoulder and towards the door when he hears a car pulling up outside. He turns back to Grantaire. "I'd prefer if we didn't have to _pretend_."

Grantaire's lips are pressed into a thin smile. "So, are we going to pretend?"

Enjolras sighs heavily, and nods without a word.

"Right then." Grantaire is good at acting. He just needs to remind himself that this is an _act_ and nothing more. He leans over, pressing a kiss to the corner of Enjolras' lips. "That would be your mother at the door. Let's not keep her waiting."

Grantaire likes Enjolras' mother. She genuinely cares about her son and likes to see him happy. She smiles every time she notices Grantaire resting his hand on the small of Enjolras' back, or whenever their fingers brush against each other. The way Enjolras leans into his touches and smiles at him is so genuine that it makes it difficult for Grantaire to remember that this isn't real. He's not _letting_ it be real, because as tempting as it is to settle for just this, Grantaire knows that it won't be enough in the long run.

"Lovely cooking, Grantaire," Enjolras' mother smiles warmly at him once they've finished and Grantaire collects their plates. "Hopefully you'll be able to teach my son a thing or two. He's utterly hopeless in the kitchen."

" _Mother_ ," Enjolras protests, loudly enough that Grantaire can hear it from the kitchen, where he's putting dessert together.

"I don't mind," Grantaire says as he walks back to the dining table carrying their three bowls of ice cream in a tray. "It's nice to be better than he is at something. I doubt that's going to happen very often."

"You're better than me at plenty of things," Enjolras murmurs, looking up at him. "I'll list them all if you want me to."

Before Grantaire can say that Enjolras will be left with a very short list of actually useful skills, Enjolras' mother chuckles fondly.

"Just _look at you_. Seeing you together like this makes me so happy." She clasps her hands together. "When are you going to settle your bond?"

The question makes Grantaire put the tray down on the table a little harder than intended, making the bowls rattle against each other. He stills them, setting them out on the table with their spoons.

Both he and Enjolras glance at each other. Enjolras sits back, letting Grantaire answer the question.

Every bond needs to be settled; while the initial bond is completely out of their hands, this is different. Settling a bond requires both people to be willing. It's an emotionally intimate moment and for that reason, it's usually paired with physical intimacy as well. Back when bonds were commonplace, it had been the reason behind the tradition of waiting until after marriage for sex. Now, it's not so strictly bound in tradition. It usually involves penetrative sex but more than that, it needs both of them to be willing to give in to the bond, to be entirely entwined in each other. Grantaire isn't ready for either of those things.

"I…" Grantaire swallows, unsticking his throat. "I'd prefer to wait a while. We'll see?"

The last part is directed at Enjolras, who nods in reply. Thankfully, Enjolras then turns to his mother and distracts her with talk of work and the next rally the social justice club is holding. Grantaire contributes to the conversation every now and then, but he's lost in thought for most of the time.

"I hope I didn't scare you there," Enjolras' mother tells him, kissing his cheek as he's leaving.

"Only a little," Grantaire replies, knowing better than to lie. "It was lovely having you over, though. You should come again sometime soon."

She spends longer at the door, talking to Enjolras quietly. Grantaire busies himself clearing the table and loading the dishes into the dishwasher before grabbing his cigarettes and lighter, retreating to the backyard.

Enjolras finds him a couple of minutes later, joining him on the stone steps leading down to the grass. He shakes his head when Grantaire offers him a cigarette, and they sit in silence.

Clearing his throat, Enjolras reaches for Grantaire's shoulder, squeezing it. Grantaire immediately leans back into the touch, taking another drag of his cigarette so he doesn't have to turn around. 

"My father," Enjolras begins, and clears his throat again. "He, uh… When he found his soulmate, he was still with my mother, but they didn't exactly waste any time settling their bond."

Grantaire winces at that. "I'm sorry. That's kind of shitty."

"Yeah." Enjolras' voice is quiet, faraway. "I guess it was."

This time, Grantaire does turn around. "You guess?" 

With a heavy sigh, Enjolras plucks the cigarette from Grantaire's lips and raises it to his own. Taking a long drag, he exhales and says, "I think I understand why he did it now."

Grantaire shakes his head, scoffing quietly.

"It's the truth, Grantaire. I respect people who can love someone without a bond, but when it comes down to it, that means nothing in the face of bonded love. The way I'm drawn to you now, I don't think I could spare a thought for anyone else even if I did love them before. As much as I can't stand the thought now, it would be the same for you, if you'd ended up bonded to someone else. I wouldn't mean anything."

" _Fuck you_ ," Grantaire snaps, getting to his feet. He steps out of Enjolras' reach with a scowl and walks right past him, back into the house, to grab his wallet and keys. He needs a drink. Or five.

It's late by the time he stumbles home, reeking of alcohol and cigarette smoke. He's still a little drunk, but as he hovers by the doorway of their bedroom, where Enjolras is already sleep, Grantaire decides he's still not drunk enough for this.

So instead, he shuts himself in his studio, too tired to do anything useful, too awake to get any sleep.

«·»

Avoiding Enjolras is difficult when they live in the same house, but when Grantaire is determined to do something, he sticks to it with a tenacity that few people ever actually get to witness.

It helps that Enjolras is busy with work and university and is rushing off to one or the other in the morning. Grantaire doesn't emerge from his studio until he's sure that Enjolras is gone, and makes sure he's out of the house by the time Enjolras returns.

Sometimes, he swears he can hear Enjolras pacing in front of the door while at other times, Enjolras gives him all the space he wants. Grantaire keeps busy with his own illustration work during the day and spends the rest of his time drinking and smoking and running himself ragged. He doesn't sleep often; he avoids the bed even when Enjolras isn't in it, and barely gets more than half an hour at a time when he's at his drawing table.

The most interaction he has with Enjolras for an entire week is the food he cooks and leaves in the fridge. There are groceries in the pantry whenever they run low, which is entirely Enjolras' doing, but there are no conversations, no exchanged glances, not one single moment spent in the same room.

The worst part is that Grantaire feels just as miserable as always. Avoiding Enjolras doesn't help and being around Enjolras just sounds equally unpleasant but then after a week, Grantaire starts _missing_ Enjolras and that's worse than anything else.

It's late and Enjolras is already asleep when Grantaire lets himself into the house, careful that the bottles in his arms don't clink together too loudly. He doesn't go upstairs, only making it as far as the couch before collapsing into a heap. He's already had a lot to drink tonight but his thoughts aren't dull enough for his liking yet.

When the bottom of one bottle starts getting him pleasantly numb, he turns to the next. It's late—Grantaire vaguely remembers the digital clock by the door telling him it's past four in the morning. He sets the second empty bottle down in front of him and flicks the lamp beside the couch on, immediately regretting it. Squinting against the light, he reaches into his bag and pulls his sketchbook out, flicking it open to the picture he was working on while sitting in the bar.

He means to reach for his pencil and keep going, but the light is bright and his eyes are tired. He only means to rest them for a brief moment but the next thing he knows, he's on the floor, there are hands tightly gripping his shoulders, and a familiar voice calling, "Grantaire? _Grantaire_!"

He opens his eyes with a start and groans, his head pounding. Enjolras is kneeling in front of him, looking tired and panicked, and Grantaire groans again, squeezing his eyes shut.

" _Grantaire_." Enjolras' fingers dig into his shoulders until he opens his eyes again. Enjolras winces at Grantaire's breath and leans back. "Are you okay?"

With a grin, Grantaire cocks his head to the side. "Did I scare you, Apollo?"

Enjolras glares in response. "I found you lying on the floor with two empty bottles on the table in front of you, what the hell do you think? I haven't seen you all week and then _this_ …"

"Nothing to worry about," Grantaire tells Enjolras, gently pushing him away.

"What's this?" Enjolras notices the sketchbook for the first time, lying on the floor beside Grantaire where it must have fallen out of his lap. 

Grantaire means to snatch it up, but he's slow and tired and Enjolras moves first, picking it up and looking at the picture it's still open to. His brow furrows as he takes it in, no doubt recognising himself and Grantaire, back to back with chains wrapped around them, holding them together.

"Is this how you see us?" Enjolras asks, his voice quiet in that dangerous way that Grantaire used to fear, when he still had the energy to care.

"This _is_ us," Grantaire replies. He wiggles his bare ring finger, watching Enjolras' gaze drop to his own engagement ring. "The choice is out of our hands, isn't it? We don't have to worry about shit like that when we have a _bond_. Fucking joy."

"We're talking about this later," Enjolras decides, his voice still quiet and angry. "But for now, you look like shit and you don't smell much better. Get in the shower, and try not to drown yourself."

"You should be so lucky," Grantaire mutters, getting to his feet and wobbling until he finds his balance. He walks up the stairs, holding onto the railing to keep him up, and feels Enjolras' gaze on him the entire way.

The shower helps to sober him, and he feels better once he's clean and brushed the taste of stale alcohol out of his mouth. He dresses like he's going into battle, wearing the same armour he wears against his parents' disapproval and disappointment—the paint-spattered shirt and hoodie, the old, fraying jeans with bleach and ink stains creating their own abstract patterns.

When Grantaire gets downstairs, Enjolras isn't there. For one confusing, terrifying moment, he thinks that Enjolras is just _gone_ , but then he sees the post-it note stuck to the fridge. Grantaire has no idea how or why Enjolras would have post-it notes on hand, but he peels it off the fridge door to read it.

Enjolras' handwriting is a hurried scrawl that reads, _Called into work. We'll talk when I get back._

Tearing the note up in irritation, Grantaire throws it into the bin, hating the fact that he'd been so concerned. Perhaps this is how Enjolras had felt earlier, but that thought only ends up making him angrier. He doesn't _want_ to empathise with Enjolras. He doesn't want to be reasonable about this. Not when he's still hurt and bitter.

Even so, he doesn't leave. It's almost midday and it's a _Saturday_ —Grantaire doesn't even know why Enjolras is being called into work on the weekend, and has no idea when he'll be home.

Regardless, Grantaire is hungry, so he starts cooking lunch. Cooking for two comes easier than Grantaire would like. He barely even needs to think about adding more ingredients so that there'll be food ready for Enjolras when he gets home. It's what he's been doing since the very first day they started living together and he's never really _thought_ about it until now. He supposes that it just makes sense, when Enjolras can't really cook himself and it's not as if Grantaire actually minds. 

Leaving food behind for Enjolras is easy. Cooking for him with the intention of actually waiting for him, however, is new. Setting the table for two makes Grantaire feel uncomfortable, and a little nervous. By the time seven o'clock rolls around, however, Grantaire just feels stupid. 

He's packed everything away long ago and filled the time in between with art, alcohol and self-loathing. He's given up on all three and is sitting in front of the TV playing a video game when Enjolras lets himself in. Grantaire doesn't bother to acknowledge him, continuing with his game. Enjolras doesn't press when his first greeting goes ignored, climbing the stairs with his fingers already pulling his tie loose. He's wearing a t-shirt and jeans when he comes back downstairs and this time, he walks over to Grantaire.

"Have you had dinner yet?" he asks, his arms folded across his chest.

"Had a late lunch," Grantaire replies, not mentioning that he'd waited until three before giving up and eating on his own. 

Judging by Enjolras' sigh, he doesn't have to. "So did I. There was a lot to do, and I completely lost track of time. I had no intention of staying for so long."

"I don't think I know anyone else who would spend half their Saturday doing work they don't actually have to do."

"Of course I had to," Enjolras replies immediately. "My boss was meant to do it this weekend. We've got a big trial coming up, but he's having some family problems at the moment."

"And there was no one else to do the work but you?"

"No, there are quite a few," Enjolras says. "He asked _me_ because he knew that I'd get it done."

Grantaire feels a small rush of pride at that, before quickly pushing it away. He wants to be angry at Enjolras, and it feels like Enjolras is just making it easy for him.

"You have a phone. You have my number. You could have called when you realised that you were going to be gone for a while."

Enjolras raises an eyebrow. "And you have _my_ number. You could have called me if you were wondering how long I was going to take."

Grantaire scowls and looks away. He knows it's a good point, just as he's sure Enjolras knows he wouldn't do it anyway.

"Well, you're here now aren't you? And you wanted to talk, so talk."

Enjolras sighs. "That's not how this works. _We_ need to talk. Both of us, if we actually want to get anywhere."

"Fine, fine, why don't you start us off? Because you seem to be the one who knows how all of this is supposed to work. That's how it is for you, isn't it? Follow what the theory says, even if it's completely different in _actual practice_."

"I'm just trying to make this _work_ somehow!" Enjolras snaps. "You're not making it easy for me, but I'm trying, okay?"

Leaning back against the couch, Grantaire rubs a hand over his face and sighs. "Well maybe we should just stop trying."

" _No_." Enjolras' tone is sharp, his expression angry. "That's not how I do things. I don't care if you're the type to give up on things when they become too difficult for you, but—"

"Oh, fuck off Apollo," Grantaire bites out, getting to his feet. He gets halfway up the stairs—to lock himself in his studio, to pack his bags and leave, he's not even sure—when Enjolras catches up to him. 

"Don't you dare," Enjolras growls, turning Grantaire around and holding him against the wall by his shoulders. "Don't you _dare_ think that this is your call to make. That you're the only one this affects. We're _bonded_ and that's not something you can just give up on."

"Why not?" Grantaire smiles without humour. "What does this bond even mean? You can go ahead and pretend you love me because that's what you think you're meant to do, but you _know_ that you don't love me. Not completely. Not the way you think you should. Even I know that."

Enjolras snarls at that, the look in his eyes telling Grantaire that he's struck a nerve. If he were being sensible, Grantaire would back down, but he's not. He's determined to show Enjolras that _his_ words can hurt too.

"You can pretend as much as you want, Apollo, but you have no idea what you're doing. You're just stumbling around blind and hoping things will make sense and work themselves out, and we can both see just how well that's working for you, can't we?"

"Shut up." Enjolras presses him against the world even harder. "I don't get how you can just…"

He trails off, and Grantaire's eyes widen in realisation. " _Oh_ , that must really piss you off, huh? I can see right through you, but you can't even _begin_ to make sense out of me."

Enjolras gives him a look of pure hatred and that's just as new as the soft, fond looks and hurts just as much, but at least Grantaire feels like he _deserves_ it.

"Admit it," Grantaire goads him, fingers curled into the front of Enjolras' shirt. "You aren't the golden god you want everyone to think you are. Isn't that right, Apollo?"

"Then _stop calling me that_ ," Enjolras growls, their faces so close to each other that their noses are almost touching. Grantaire grins and Enjolras makes an angry sound at the back of his throat, closing the gap between their lips.

Grantaire's grip on Enjolras' shirt goes lax with surprise. This feels even better than arguing. Enjolras' kisses are angry, sharp with teeth, and Grantaire kisses back just as hard. His lips are going to be bruised later, but if anything, that only encourages him. Enjolras kisses down his neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin. Grantaire is unprepared for just how good it feels. He moans loudly, muffled when Enjolras fits their mouths together once again.

This feels like the most genuine kiss they've ever shared and Grantaire doesn't want it to stop. As it turns out, Enjolras doesn't either. Their hands go to each other's hair and Enjolras steps closer until they're pressed against each other. Grantaire is harder than he's ever been and when Enjolras moves his hips just that tiny bit, dragging their clothed erections against each other, he forgets how to breathe. 

Enjolras pauses for a brief moment before moving his hips again, more deliberately this time. Grantaire lets out a choked moan that he can't quite hold back. Enjolras swears, his voice low and rough, and does it again. He gets a knee between Grantaire's legs and they both moan at the change in the angle, at the fact that they're even closer now. Enjolras' hands go to Grantaire's hips, making him freeze.

"No," Grantaire gasps, covering Enjolras' hands with his own, stilling them. "Don't."

"We don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Enjolras murmurs, pressing his lips to Grantaire's forehead. "We can just…"

Enjolras doesn't move, until Grantaire's fingers curl into his blond hair, hips rocking experimentally. 

"Okay," Grantaire whispers against his lips. "We… we can do this."

The sharp, angry edge is gone now, replaced by something more tentative and cautious, but neither of them really mind. Not when this feels so good.

"We should probably move off the stairs," Grantaire murmurs, their foreheads resting against each other.

For a moment, it looks like Enjolras is going to make a suggestion, before remembering that he's following Grantaire's lead. "Whatever you want."

Grantaire kisses him and hopes the nervousness stays out of his voice when he suggest, "Bed?"

Enjolras nods, stepping back and letting Grantaire lead the way. It feels odd to do so. Grantaire might have his belongings taking up space in the room, but Enjolras is the one who sleeps here. It feels like _his_ room, not theirs. He wants Enjolras to lead and luckily, he doesn't even need to say it.

"Come here," Enjolras murmurs, reaching out and pulling Grantaire closer to the bed. They kiss and Enjolras' lips brush against the shell of Grantaire's ear as he speaks. "Lie down for me?"

Enjolras is nervous about this too, and the realisation calms Grantaire down a little. Enjolras crawls onto the bed, with his knees on either side of Grantaire's body and licks his lips, looking unsure of himself. It's an odd expression on Enjolras' face, but not entirely unpleasant. Grantaire pulls him down into a kiss, because at least they're familiar with that. Kissing with Enjolras lying on top of him is different, but Grantaire enjoys it, enjoying the way Enjolras gradually relaxes, putting more weight on him. Grantaire hooks a leg around Enjolras' hip and shifts beneath him. They moan into each other's mouths, grinding against each other until it's no longer enough for Grantaire.

"We're not settling our bond," Grantaire murmurs, certain that Enjolras already knows, but wanting the clarification all the same.

"It can wait," Enjolras agrees with a nod.

Grantaire slides a hand under the back of Enjolras' shirt, fingers skimming over warm skin and they both sit up so they can take their shirts off, pausing once they've both been discarded to the side.

"Have you ever…?" Enjolras begins, and Grantaire shakes his head.

"Never. You?"

Enjolras shakes his head as well, looking unsure of himself. Grantaire takes a deep breath and reaches between them, pressing his hand to Enjolras' erection. "Pretty sure we'll figure it out."

Enjolras grins at that. He leans forward, kissing Grantaire as they fumble with the flies of each other's jeans. Grantaire pushes Enjolras' pants down as far as they'll go, and then rolls them over so he can pull them the rest of the way off. He kicks his own jeans off while he's at it and gets back into bed, his hesitation gone now. 

They kiss, hands wrapping around each other's cocks. Grantaire is going to come embarrassingly fast and the way Enjolras is moaning and thrusting into his hand is not helping at all. Grantaire can barely believe that this is happening at all, but then Enjolras comes with a quiet cry, his eyes screwed shut, and the sight alone is enough to have Grantaire coming as well, harder than he's ever come on his own. 

They both lie where they are for a moment, foreheads resting against each other as they regain their breath. Enjolras gets up, walking to the bathroom and returning with a damp towel. They clean themselves off and by that point, the lack of proper sleep is getting to Grantaire on top of everything else. He only intends to shut his eyes for a while, but when he opens them again, it's morning and he's under the covers with Enjolras lying to his left.

It's ridiculously early according to the bedside clock, but when Grantaire sits up, he feels Enjolras' fingers curling around his wrist.

"Stay." Enjolras isn't quite looking at him, but his grip tightens before he lets go. "I'm not going to bite. Besides, it's your bed too and you _do_ need sleep, despite what you might think. This is definitely more comfortable than sleeping at your desk."

Grantaire sighs, not replying, but he lies back down. Enjolras is right; this _is_ more comfortable. 

"You _don't_ bite?"

"…Shut up."

Grantaire grins, turning his face into his pillow. He's asleep again in a matter of seconds.

«·»

It doesn't take long before Grantaire finds himself in a self-destructive cycle. He'll piss Enjolras off, usually when Enjolras is in too much of a rush to actually do anything about it. It gives Enjolras time to brood about it all day, and unlike before, Grantaire will actually be waiting for him when he gets home.

The actual arguments are short-lived but the sex is great, Enjolras pinning him down on the bed, fingers wrapped around both their cocks. Grantaire's collarbone and shoulders are covered in bite marks that his shirts just barely cover, and he loves it. 

As good as it is now, Grantaire knows that it's not a good idea in the long run. The problem is, good ideas aren't his strong suit. Self-destructive behaviour, on the other hand, is something he is incredibly good at.

It's difficult to stop when it's working out so well for them right now; they sleep in the same bed without a problem—even if Enjolras needs to get another set of blankets so that Grantaire doesn't end up stealing all of them—and they're even learning to share space properly instead of just avoiding each other.

Not that this means that everything is going well; they might get along half the time, but they're still at each other's throats for the other half. They're not actually getting anywhere with their bond, they're barely anything more than housemates that happen to fall into bed with each other on a regular basis and every time Grantaire looks at the engagement ring on Enjolras' finger, or thinks too hard about how he _wishes_ things were, he ends up withdrawing into himself, taking comfort in his cigarettes and bottles, and that just ends up fuelling even more arguments until they're right back at square one.

Sometimes, when they're not arguing and they're not in bed, they actually talk. Grantaire never knows that to say without feeling that he'll bore Enjolras, but Enjolras has no such qualms. He talks about work, about what he's studying at university, and what he'll bring up at the next social justice meeting even though Grantaire's started going to them again and already knows exactly what issues they're looking at.

Recently, Enjolras has taken to ranting about work. He never goes into any great depth, but things aren't going the way he wants them to for reasons completely out of his control and it's making him even more agitated than normal, to the point where Grantaire won't even provoke him because it will result in cold silence, followed by Enjolras staying awake all night in his study to work on his laptop.

"So what's actually wrong?" Grantaire asks one night, tired of not being able to contribute past the sympathetic hums he makes every time Enjolras pauses in his ranting.

"It's Valjean," Enjolras grumbles, and then clarifies, "my boss. He's supposed to be the one in charge of this case, but he's been distracted for months and it's only getting _worse_."

"Any idea why?"

"It's his daughter. She's been depressed lately. Something about finding her bond and losing it. I don't know—"

"Wait." Grantaire's eyes widen. "You say she's been like this for the past few months?"

"Yes…?" Enjolras frowns.

Grantaire _stares_ at him, but Enjolras doesn't seem to make the connection at all. Grantaire doesn't even know why he's surprised.

"Never mind," he sighs and Enjolras goes right back to complaining about he still has his studies and doesn't have the _time_ to deal with all the work he needs to do.

The next day, Grantaire decides to drop Enjolras' lunch off at work in the middle of the day. By the time Enjolras comes out to the reception desk to meet Grantaire, he's already thoroughly charmed the receptionist and found out everything he needs to know about Valjean's daughter.

"Grantaire," Enjolras greets him, then takes him aside to quietly add, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"I was in the area," Grantaire tells him with a bright grin. "Realised I forgot to make you lunch this morning so… here you go."

Enjolras takes the proffered bag with a look of confusion. Just because he can, Grantaire kisses Enjolras on the tip of his nose before he turns and leaves, smirking as he hears the receptionist titter and tell Enjolras how _cute_ his boyfriend is.

He pays for it later that night, with Enjolras sinking his teeth into his shoulder, jerking him off slowly— _much_ too slowly for Grantaire's liking—but in the end, that feels more like a reward than a punishment anyway.

"Don't mock me in front of my colleagues again," Enjolras murmurs and Grantaire can only whine brokenly, still riding out his orgasm.

Grantaire drops by for coffee on Thursday afternoon.

He holds Enjolras' coffee cup out like a peace offering, because he can already see the anger clouding those storm-blue eyes. "I thought you could do with a break, because you've been so stressed lately."

"Grantaire…"

"Just ten minutes, Apollo. You can spare that, right?"

With a heavy sigh, Enjolras accepts the cup and leads the way out of the building.

"No one is going to take me seriously if you keep visiting me," Enjolras tells him. "I'd prefer if you stopped."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Grantaire replies and then softer, adds, "I don't think they'll stop taking you seriously just because they realise you're a _human_ and not actually a robot."

"I'm not here to be liked, Grantaire. I'm here because I have _work_ to do."

Grantaire sighs heavily against the lid of his coffee cup. "I can't believe I used to be so in love with you."

Enjolras frowns at him. Grantaire ignores the look, checking his watch and saying, "Ten minutes. See? That didn't take long at all."

They walk back to the office in silence and Grantaire doesn't try to kiss Enjolras this time. He times it just right, so that when he's heading out the door, he nearly bumps into a blonde girl with big, blue eyes that look incredibly sad.

 _Not bad, Marius_ , he thinks, before smiling at her. "Hey. Cosette, right? I'm Grantaire. Your dad is my—boyfriend's boss."

She smiles at him in a way that doesn't really reach her eyes, but Grantaire knows how to charm people when he needs to. He tells her that he just so happens to be walking in the same direction that she is and five incredibly bad jokes later, she's actually laughing and when he suggests getting coffee, she agrees.

He gets her to talk about her bond almost as soon as they're sitting down. He compares them to his own experiences with Enjolras, with complete honesty. It's cathartic to talk about how much he loves and hates Enjolras with a complete stranger and she responds in kind, telling Grantaire all about the days where she wakes up feeling incomplete and unbearably sad. He doesn't tell her about Marius, even though he's _certain_ , because he doesn't want to give her false hope. Instead, he befriends her, meeting her regularly for coffee and for conversation, to talk about Enjolras, to cheer her up and sometimes, to put his arm around her shoulders as she cries.

It goes for about a week, before Enjolras comes home, furious.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Right now? Making dinner."

"Do you want to explain why Valjean was _thanking_ me today, for the fact that my fiancé has made good friends with his daughter and making her happier than she's been in months?"

"She really said that to him?" Grantaire asks with a small smile before it quickly fades in the face of Enjolras' anger.

"I thought you were mocking me before," Enjolras says quietly, "but this is—are you trying to ruin me entirely? Is that it?"

" _Ruin_ you…" Grantaire laughs bitterly. "Did it occur to you that maybe this has _nothing_ to do with you? Or if it had any effect on your life at all, it's just the fact that your boss is happy with you because of the fact that I'm making his daughter smile again?"

"Are you cheating on me, Grantaire—"

" _No_!" Grantaire isn't one to shout, but he can feel his anger boiling over. "I don't fucking know how you can be so smart and yet so _stupid_."

Enjolras waits for him to continue, but Grantaire has no interest in explaining himself. He grabs his keys, his phone, his lighter, and leaves. It feels like such a big step backwards that he can't even pretend that his eyes stinging because of the cold night air. 

He makes two phone calls, the first to Bahorel saying that he needs a drinking buddy and a couch to crash for the night, the second to Cosette, telling her that she needs to come to the post-meeting drinks that the social justice club has every Friday night.

Grantaire doesn't speak to Enjolras at the meeting the next day, and Enjolras doesn't try to engage him. The rest of their friends exchange uneasy looks, but none of them make any comment.

Then they go to the bar afterwards and the moment Enjolras sees Cosette walking in, he turns to Grantaire.

" _What_ —"

Grantaire silences him with a hand on his chest, pushing Enjolras back down into his seat without even looking at him. "Watch."

The bar is noisy around them, but Grantaire hears none of it as Cosette looks around the room, her gaze landing on Marius.

Marius—in mid-conversation with Joly—immediately falls silent, getting to his feet. He walks to Cosette, gently pushing past anyone in his way, barely aware of their presence. They reach for each other, and watching them clasp hands is like watching two puzzle pieces click together.

"Oh," Enjolras breathes. He looks at Grantaire. "You knew—"

"Yeah," Grantaire cuts him off. "I knew, the moment you told me that Valjean's daughter was upset because of a bond she'd lost _a few months ago_. Just like Marius. You would have known too, if you're cared about anything other than how it was affecting your work."

"Grantaire—"

"Don't, Apollo. Really. Don't. I'll see you at home."

Grantaire leaves, winking at Cosette on his way out. She looks over at Enjolras with a frown, but Grantaire simply shakes his head. She has better things to be focusing on right now than his mess of a relationship.

Besides, Grantaire has several bottles at home with his name on them. It might be the only thing calling him home right now, but he supposes that it still counts.

«·»

Grantaire is known for his bouts of melancholia, but few of his friends have experienced the way he can be when he simply surrenders himself to the thought of being permanently miserable. There's a certain relentlessness about it; this isn't depression or helplessness. Grantaire in a black mood is like a dog with a bone and he will do anything in his power to keep himself from letting go.

His relationship with Enjolras regresses to the way it was at the very beginning, with Grantaire avoiding him, refusing to be in the same room as him. It would hurt if not for the fact that this is his decision. He doesn't know how to deal with being this angry at Enjolras, so he just _doesn't_. He can't imagine any way that they'll figure out how to actually get along and if this bond is going to be a permanent part of his life from now on, Grantaire supposes he'll just have to get used to not being happy while he's at it.

Even so, the realisation of just how much progress they've lost in such a short time still stings. He spends most of his time trying not to think of it, on top of trying not to think about just how _jealous_ he is of Cosette and Marius now, because of the way they're so perfect together and so happy.

Grantaire is still surprisingly close with Cosette, and it makes him feel a little guilty whenever he sees Eponine, who can't hide how upset she is no matter how hard she tries. He remembers sitting with Eponine, before he turned twenty-three, bonding over the fact that they were both in love with completely unattainable men. Except now, Marius is completely out of Eponine's reach and the fact that Grantaire has Enjolras means nothing when it makes him so damn miserable.

It goes for a month like this, with Grantaire barely eating or sleeping again, when Enjolras finally corners him. It's a Saturday evening, and Grantaire is both sleep-deprived and already a little drunk.

" _Stop_ this," Enjolras demands, grabbing Grantaire by the arm to keep him from just turning around and leaving, the way he has been whenever they're in the same room for the past few weeks. "Damn it Grantaire, I'm sick of this. We can't just be _miserable_ forever."

"Oh yeah?" Grantaire grins. "Speak for yourself. I'm managing just fine."

"If you think _this_ is you managing just fine…" Enjolras trails off and shakes his head. "This isn't just up to you, okay?"

"So you keep reminding me, Apollo. Funny thing is, it's not all about _you_ either."

"I'm not saying—"

"No, you're not, but I can hear it anyway. You want this on _your_ terms, to fit _your_ idea of what this is actually supposed to be." Grantaire licks his lips and leans back against the wall with a quiet, unhappy laugh. "You know, I used to be so stupidly in love with you. Back when I _wanted_ to, when I could just love you and that was it; I didn't expect you to even acknowledge me and you didn't… well, you didn't expect me to do _anything_ back then, did you?"

"But that kind of love doesn't—"

"No, Apollo, don't even start. Don't you even _try_ cheapening that for me."

Enjolras lets out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Grantaire, love comes from _bonds_. Everything else is just… a pale imitation. It's something that people comfort themselves with until the real thing comes around."

Grantaire doesn't know whether to laugh or sob, and the sound he makes ends up being a combination of both.

"I don't care how much of a machine you want to be," Grantaire tells him. "I don't care if you've somehow managed to convince yourself that you didn't feel love until this clusterfuck of a bond, but what we have? This isn't love. It's draining and exhausting, and don't you dare give it a higher value than _actual love_ , not when there are so many people second-guessing themselves because they don't _have_ bonds. Not when your two best friends have been desperately in love with each other for years and too damn scared to do anything about it when they don't have a bond. When people like _you_ are telling them that what they have doesn't mean shit."

"My best friends…?" Enjolras frowns.

Grantaire swears under his breath. "Is it really that difficult for you? How many best friends do you _have_?"

"But… Combeferre and Courfeyrac? They should know better."

That makes Grantaire reel like he's been slapped in the face. He barely knows what to say. He pushes Enjolras out of his way, hears himself saying, "I'm done with this, Apollo. _We're done_ ," and does the one thing he knows how to do best.

He runs from the problem. To the nearest source of alcohol.

Enjolras finds him, five hours and three bars later. Grantaire's drinking alone because he doesn't want to talk about what happened, and he doesn't need anyone keeping an eye on just how much he's having.

By the time he registers Enjolras' presence, Grantaire is so drunk that he only really remembers bits and pieces. He's dancing with someone, barely managing to keep himself upright if not for the stranger's hands on his hips. They're smiling, leaning into each other, and Grantaire's wondering if his feelings for Enjolras can just be fucked out of his system.

Then Enjolras is there, behind him, pushing the other's hands away, growling something that Grantaire is too drunk to make sense of. All he knows is that Enjolras is here, and it makes him happier than he'd like. He hates this feeling, but he loves it more. When Enjolras pulls him into an angry, possessive kiss and says, "we're going home," he goes without question.

They try to walk. Grantaire's too drunk for the brisk air to sober him entirely; he's too drunk for the walk itself and Enjolras gives up, hailing a taxi.

By the time they get home, Grantaire can feel the anger rolling off Enjolras in waves. There's something else there too, in the pinch of his eyes and crease of his brown, but Grantaire can't figure out what it is

"Get some sleep," Enjolras tells him, slowly undressing him, until he's down to his boxers. Enjolras takes him in, making a pained sound at the back of his throat. "Fucking hell, Grantaire. You need some rest."

Grantaire crawls into their bed for the first time in a month, and Enjolras lies down beside him, curling around him possessively.

"You're mine," Enjolras says, fierce, angry, repeating it into Grantaire's hair. "You're mine, you're _mine_."

Grantaire rolls over, clinging to Enjolras shirt. There are bursts of clarity filtering through the drunken haze, making him realise what he was doing, what he was about to do. 

Enjolras must be so angry. 

"I'm sorry," Enjolras whispers, gentle, sad, his lips against Grantaire's forehead. "I'm so, so sorry, Grantaire."

Grantaire whimpers and Enjolras' arms come around him tighter, holding him close. They both fall asleep like that.

«·»

Grantaire wakes up with the worst hangover he's ever had, and his chest heavy with dread.

Enjolras isn't in bed. The blinds have been shut so that the room is as dark as possible, and there's a glass of water next to Grantaire's side of the bed, along with a couple of painkillers.

It reminds Grantaire of the morning after his birthday, and the way Enjolras had taken care of him then as well, even if from a distance. Grantaire bitterly wonders whether it's out of choice or obligation this time, but he doesn't have very long to dwell on it before Enjolras opens the door and lets himself in.

"Hey." His voice is soft, almost tentative. "How are you feeling?"

"Shit," Grantaire replies honestly. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs a hand over his face. "I really fucked up last night."

Picking up the glass of water, Enjolras holds it out for Grantaire. "Yeah, well, so did I."

Taking the glass, Grantaire swallows the pins down and sighs. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry."

"Me too. So at least we're even, right?"

Grantaire manages a smile at that, gulping the rest of the water down.

"We need to talk, but that can wait." Enjolras combs his fingers through Grantaire's hair. "You look exhausted and you've lost weight, and it's all my fault."

"Well, give _me_ a little credit too," Grantaire replies. "Pretty sure I did all the actual work."

"Very funny," Enjolras says dryly. "Go to sleep, Grantaire. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Not getting called into work on the weekends any more?"

"No." Enjolras manages a smile. "Something to do with my boss being relaxed and able to work again because his daughter's _happy_."

"Funny that." Grantaire lies back down, immediately feeling better as soon as he's horizontal.

When he wakes up later, he can hear Enjolras in his study, typing away on his laptop. Grantaire takes a shower first, then swallows another couple of painkillers before leaning against the door jamb of the study.

"How are you feeling now?" Enjolras asks him, looking up from his work.

"Better," Grantaire replies. "Do you want to talk?"

"Soon, but we'll eat lunch first. I'll cook." At Grantaire's sceptical look, Enjolras shrugs. "Okay, microwave meals. My point is, you need to eat."

"Is this you trying to undo all the damage you think you've done?"

"This is me realising that I've been a terrible friend lately," Enjolras replies. "For all that I've been talking about love and bonds, I've let more harm come to you since we've been bonded than I ever would have allowed _anyone_ to cause before."

"Aww, I'm touched, Apollo."

"I'm being serious." Enjolras leads the way downstairs to the kitchen, getting their food ready while Grantaire leans against the bench top. "I… haven't stopped thinking about this since you left last night. If you want to stay broken up, that's fine. We can call everything off, if that's what you want. I just want you back as a friend."

"Come here." Grantaire pulls Enjolras into a hug, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that is constantly demanding _more_. "We're friends, okay? We're always friends. You couldn't get rid of me if you tried. The rest of it, however, we'll have to work on."

"But you still _want_ the rest?"

"If it's something we're actually working for? Yeah. If it's something you're expecting to happen just because that's what we've been told is meant to happen? Then no, because that means we want completely different things." Grantaire takes the bowl Enjolras passes him and gets forks out for both of them. "You've had a really bad experience with bonds, with your dad, and I get that. If that happened to me, I'd probably lose all faith in love, too. It's just… not always like that, okay?"

"I know. I thought about Combeferre and Courfeyrac and… it's obvious, now that you've told me. I should have realised it a long time ago. They're…"

"Crazy about each other?" Grantaire suggests with a small smile. "Not quite the way Marius and Cosette are, but you know."

"Yeah." Enjolras nods. "Yeah, I do."

That's enough to make Grantaire's smile grow. It's enough proof that they can get past this, that they can actually _get somewhere_ , and that's all he needs. 

They decide to focus on mending their friendship for now, learning how to share space properly, instead of constantly irritating each other. They still share the same bed, but they know their boundaries, they know what they're comfortable with, and Grantaire can't remember being _this_ happy in a very, very long time. It helps that he's getting sleep again, and Enjolras is making sure he eats regular meals—eating with him, if that's what he has to do to make sure Grantaire eats. 

Grantaire's work picks up again, and even though Enjolras is busy with work and university, they start making time for each other, even if it's just to sit with each other and watch stupid TV shows while eating dinner, or to have coffee together during Enjolras' afternoon breaks at work.

Their friends begin to notice the fact that they're both getting along much better now. Bahorel sits down beside Grantaire at one of their meetings, nudging him.

"You're looking happier."

Grantaire raises an eyebrow. "Am I?" 

"Don't even pretend you don't know it, R. I'm pretty sure the fact that you haven't asked me to come out drinking with you in the middle of the night for a while says enough." Bahorel lowers his voice and says, "I'm really happy for you, okay? I'm not entirely sure what's going on between you and Enjolras, but… it looks like it's going well. And that makes me happy."

"Yeah," Grantaire replies softly. "Yeah. I'm pretty happy too."

Enjolras clears his throat to start their meeting and Grantaire looks up, meeting eyes for a fleeting moment. They smile at each other, just briefly, before looking away again, but that's enough to put Grantaire in a good mood for the rest of the day.

«·»

Marius and Cosette's engagement party is grand, it's extravagant, and it makes Grantaire wonder just how much bigger their actual wedding is going to be. Both their families are incredibly rich and Valjean is a doting father, willing to do anything and everything he can to make sure Cosette is happy, and that she stays that way. Marius is a little terrified of him, despite the fact that Valjean has taken a liking to him, and Grantaire doesn't blame him for it at all.

There's an open bar, which is a blessing tonight. Grantaire isn't drinking half as much as would have a month ago, but he's taken it upon himself to keep Eponine company through the night, sitting with her as she drinks herself numb, and making sure that she gets plenty of water in between.

Marius and Cosette are dancing, along with most of their friends, and Grantaire and Eponine are sitting at a small table in the corner, out of the way of everyone else. Marius hasn't realised that Eponine is in love with him, though the way Cosette will occasionally look across the room and catch Grantaire's eye with a small, sad smile tells him that she's figured it out for herself. Eponine's already spoken to them both and congratulated them, and doesn't want to do anything else. Grantaire can't blame her. He imagines how it would feel if it were Enjolras there, getting engaged to someone else, the way Grantaire had expected it to be until he'd turned twenty-three. The very thought has him reaching for his own glass of wine.

Enjolras walks over to join them every now and then, bringing them food and more wine. He doesn't stay for long, but Grantaire appreciates it all the same, smiling up at him, their fingers brushing around the stem of a wine glass, or when they pass plates to each other. Grantaire tries not to be overly affectionate in front of Eponine, but there are some things that he just can't help, especially when he's beginning to feel like he and Enjolras could actually _work_ together.

"So," Eponine murmurs, resting her chin on her hand. "You and Enjolras finally working things out?"

"We're getting there," Grantaire replies, looking down at his glass. "We're actually getting along."

"Which is a lot better than what you were doing to each other before," Eponine tells him, sounding satisfied. "Even if he looks like he's over-thinking everything he's doing right now."

Grantaire chuckles at that. "Well, you know. That's just what Apollo's like."

"Why do you call him that?" Eponine asks. "Apollo? I don't think I even remember the last time I heard you call him by his actual name."

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Grantaire takes a sip of his wine. "It suits him. He wants to be great, so why not a god?"

"You realise raising him up on a pedestal is a bad idea, right?" Eponine frowns at Grantaire. "Looking up to him and loving him quietly isn't going to help you at all. Look where it got me."

"Oh, 'Ponine." Grantaire wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes. 

"I know he would never have been mine anyway." She rests her head on his shoulder and lets out a heavy sigh. "He would have spent his whole life pining after Cosette, even if he never found her. I know that. I just… need some time before I can actually feel _happy_ for them, you know? Does that make me a bad person?"

"The fact that you're willing to try makes you a better person than most." Enjolras' voice startles them both. He gives them an apologetic smile and sits down beside Grantaire. "Thought I'd give you two some company for a while, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Grantaire replies, scanning the large function room and grinning when he notices Combeferre and Courfeyrac sitting together, deep in conversation. He smiles at Enjolras, who smiles in return. 

Enjolras doesn't drink, because he's driving, and doesn't stay for very long, called away as he has throughout the night by someone who wants to talk politics, or discuss the way he's trying to catalyse change at their social justice meetings. Grantaire lets him go, getting more wine for Eponine whenever her glass is empty. 

"Enjolras is a good guy," Eponine mumbles into her wine glass, towards the end of the night. Most of the guests have left, until it's just the close friends left. Her eyelids are drooping and she doesn't protest when Grantaire gently pulls her glass out of reach. She rests her head on her folded arms and sighs heavily. "You should keep him."

"I will, if he'll stay," Grantaire replies, stroking her hair gently. 

"He will," Eponine tells him, sounding entirely sure of herself, and immediately falls asleep.

Grantaire sits where he is, slowly finishing his own glass of wine, and Enjolras sees him, walking across the room to him again.

"Do you want me to get you another glass?"

"Just sit down," Grantaire tells him. "That's all I want."

Enjolras does, pulling his chair closer to Grantaire's than before. "So I take it that Eponine and Marius…?"

"It was one-sided," Grantaire replies. "He had no idea."

"Well. I suppose that's better than if he'd just bonded to someone else."

"It's terrifying," Grantaire murmurs. "Being in love with someone and just dreading the moment that they find the person they'll bond with."

"Did you feel that?" Enjolras asks quietly.

"Every single day. From the day you turned twenty-three until I did."

Enjolras reaches for Grantaire's hand, squeezing it. They both look over to where Combeferre and Courfeyrac are standing with a few others, side by side, close enough that their shoulders are brushing.

"It's a risk." Grantaire's fingers close around Enjolras' hand, not letting go. "But considering how rarely bonds are formed these days? I think it pays off. Better to have loved and lost, and all that."

Enjolras turns to him with a raised eyebrow. "That's almost _optimistic_ of you, R."

Grantaire laughs. "I can be, on the rare occasion. Just to change things up a little. You'll learn."

"Will I?" Enjolras is smiling warmly, and it's difficult to resist the urge to lean across and kiss him. 

Grantaire looks away, barely managing to bite back his grin. "Yeah, I think you will."

«·»

When exam time comes around at college, Enjolras barely has any time for anything else. He's constantly in his study, with his books and notes open in front of him, everything colour-coded to a system that Grantaire is slowly beginning to understand, every time he goes into the room to make sure Enjolras eats something.

For the most part, however, Grantaire leaves Enjolras alone. He's already finished his own art degree years ago, so he doesn't need to worry about assessments himself. Now that his personal life has settled down to some degree, he starts focusing on his own work, picking up more commissions and taking on more illustrations, keeping himself busy. He spends all day in his studio, drawing, painting, sending in-progress pictures back and forth between clients for feedback. 

They're both exhausted by the time they actually get to bed, at some ridiculously early hour of the morning, but Grantaire is glad that at least Enjolras is getting sleep. They don't have the chance to spend much time together until Enjolras is done with his exams and by the day of his last exam, Grantaire is incredibly relieved that it's almost over. He _misses_ Enjolras, misses the way they'd spend time together, misses the idle conversation over shared meals. 

It makes Grantaire feel ridiculous, but he's comforted by the fact that he's clearly not the only one. The afternoon after Enjolras' last exam, they spend hours together, watching movies, commenting on them, arguing over characters and laughing at each other's jokes. 

Three movies and a box of pizza later, they're leaning back into the couch, their sides pressed together, when Enjolras turns to Grantaire. "Would it be ridiculous of me to ask you out on a date?"

"Depends," Grantaire replies with an exaggerated hum, just to hide the fact that he wants to grin like an idiot.

"On?"

"Where are you taking me?"

"Well…" Enjolras frowns a little. "I could make a reservation at—"

"Oh, god no, not a stuffy restaurant." Grantaire shakes his head. "If we're going out for a date, we're having _fun_."

"And where do you suggest we go?"

"We'll play it by ear. Does that sound okay to you?" Grantaire chews on his lip. "Tomorrow? We could both do with sleeping in, I think. We'll head out around eleven?"

"That sounds wonderful." Enjolras nods, smiling, and Grantaire doesn't even try holding back his grin any more.

Grantaire is nervous the next morning, and feels a little stupid for it. He doesn't know why this feels any different to all the other times they've done things together, and is frustrated at himself for putting a higher value to it when it probably doesn't make much of a difference at all. Not that this gets him to stop.

"Don't dress up," Grantaire tells Enjolras as they both get ready to go out. "Just… be comfortable, okay? We're going out to have _fun_."

Despite his own words, Grantaire desperately tries to tame his hair, eventually giving up in frustration and pulling a beanie on instead. They meet in the lounge room and Enjolras looks a little nervous himself—or as nervous as he can look, anyway. It makes Grantaire feel a little better.

"Where do you want to go?" Enjolras asks as they leave the house.

"The art gallery," Grantaire replies immediately. "Does that sound okay?"

"That sounds pretty great, actually. I don't think I've ever been."

"Oh man, you've been missing out." Grantaire leads the way to the bus stop. "Pretty sure I spent more of my art degree sitting around the gallery than I did at school."

"That would sound more impressive if I didn't already know that you spent more time _anywhere_ that wasn't school while you were doing your degree," Enjolras points out with a smirk.

"Damn it," Grantaire grumbles. "You know me way too well for me to impress you, don't you?"

As Grantaire soon finds out, this isn't true at all. When they get to the gallery, he takes the lead and shows Enjolras around, ignoring the maps and the tours that are running in favour of just going to all of his favourite sections and telling Enjolras _why_ he likes these particular paintings, these sculptures, showing off the installation piece that's been around for years that he's still absolutely in love with. He tells Enjolras of the different points in his life that he spent regularly visiting particular exhibits. He shows off his knowledge of art history and the best part is that Enjolras is actually interested. He pays close attention to everything Grantaire says, he asks about symbolism, and comes up with his own theories of what the paintings mean.

It's the most fun Grantaire's had at the gallery for as long as he can remember, and to him, that's a pretty big deal.

Grantaire goes non-stop, apart from a brief break for lunch, taking Enjolras all over the gallery until it's five o'clock and time to leave.

"I hope I didn't get boring—"

"Don't be ridiculous. That was _brilliant_ , R. Where to next?"

Grantaire's eyes widen in surprise. He hadn't actually expected Enjolras to want to do anything but head home afterwards.

"Uh… we could go to this twenty-four hour café nearby?" he suggests, grasping for an idea that doesn't sound completely stupid. "I think we both need to sit down for a while, and I usually go there after visiting the gallery on my own anyway."

Enjolras' smile is bright as he says, "Lead the way."

They find a booth seat in the corner and sit across from each other, happy to be resting their feet. They order coffee and as much as Grantaire enjoys talking to Enjolras, he can only resist the urge to pull out his sketchbook for so long. He has an A5 sketchbook that he takes everywhere with him, along with a few pencils. Enjolras doesn't seem to mind at all; if anything, he's fascinated, watching Grantaire draw, twisting his head this way and that.

"You could just move, you know," Grantaire suggests, shuffling to one side of his chair and patting the space next to him. "Might be a bit easier."

Enjolras moves, and even though there's plenty of space for both of them, they end up pressed against each other. Grantaire doesn't mind at all, talking to Enjolras and idly sketching at the same time. 

They both lose track of time; they order food when they're hungry and at some point afterwards, Enjolras takes Grantaire's hand into his own. Neither of them really make any mention of it, but neither of them let go for the rest of the night. By the time they finally leave, it's past ten o'clock and Grantaire's lucky that the people at this café know and like him. It means he has to put up with them grinning at him when he and Enjolras don't let go of each other's hands except to pay, and then immediately reach for each other again. Grantaire doesn't particularly mind.

They forgo the bus, deciding to walk home instead. It's not particularly far, but it gives them longer to talk, their hands idly swinging between them as they walk. Enjolras is telling Grantaire about his favourite books but he trails off as they reach their door.

"Thanks for today," Grantaire murmurs, getting his keys out of his pocket.

"Thank _you_ ," Enjolras replies. "I enjoyed it more than I ever could have expected. I'm glad you vetoed my idea of the restaurant."

Grantaire laughs at that and tugs Enjolras closer. They lean into each other, noses brushing, and Grantaire is all too aware of the fact that they haven't kissed for weeks. He laughs quietly. "Not exactly a first kiss, is it?"

"We can pretend it is, if you want."

"And pretend that everything before never happened? No way. I wouldn't trade any of that for the world." Grantaire squeezes Enjolras' hand. "I wouldn't trade any of this."

Enjolras kisses him then, pressing him against the door. Grantaire gasps into his mouth, his free hand going into Enjolras' hair. 

"Damn it," Grantaire grits out, pulling Enjolras in for another deep kiss. "I've been waiting all day to use this line about not putting out after the first date."

"And now?" Enjolras asks, kissing down Grantaire's neck.

"And now I'm going to unlock the door so I can drag you upstairs to bed," Grantaire tells him. " _Geez_ , you make my life so difficult."

«·»

It occurs to Grantaire while he's packing sandwiches for Enjolras to take to work for lunch—cut into triangles for the hell of it—that he has a crush on his fiancé. Scratch that, he's had a crush on Enjolras for longer than he cares to quantify. He _likes_ Enjolras; genuinely likes him as a person, as a friend, and more.

When Enjolras kisses Grantaire on his way out, taking his lunch box and smiling with amusement as he asks, "did you cut them into triangles again?" Grantaire is pretty sure it's mutual.

It's a pleasant realisation that puts Grantaire in a good mood for the entire day. Cosette has invited him out for the day and now that things are going better with Enjolras, Grantaire no longer feels the jealousy and subsequent guilt from seeing how happy she is now.

"Look at that smile!" she hugs Grantaire tightly when she sees him. "You've been looking much happier lately."

Grantaire can't help the way his smile grows even wider. All of his friends have been mentioning it but Cosette knows just how much it hurts to have a bond not quite working the way it's meant to. She knows the feeling of relief when things finally start falling into place.

"He likes me for… _me_ , now. Or I'm pretty sure he does. Not because he thinks he has to, but because he actually _likes_ me." Grantaire laughs quietly at that, shaking his head. "I honestly never thought that would happen. Ever."

"I'm so happy that things are finally working out for you two. You looked so cute together at our engagement party—you'd better not show us up at our own wedding."

"I don't think we could even compete," Grantaire replies with a smirk. "Speaking of, how's the planning going?"

Cosette and Marius don't want to wait long to get married. They know they're perfect for each other and they've been trying to get the wedding organised as quickly as possible without making it too rushed. Grantaire listens to all of Cosette's plans, offering to help in any way that he can. Cosette tells him that he's already done more for her than she can ever hope to repay.

It's mid-afternoon when they part ways, so Grantaire walks to Enjolras' office. They've made such a habit of getting coffee together than Grantaire's taken to buying them both on his way to the office, where Enjolras will meet him at just the right time, so they can spend as much time together as possible before he needs to return to work.

"Got a big commission coming up soon," Grantaire mentions, once they're sitting on a park bench. "Got an email today just asking for information and prices, but it sounds like a big painting."

"You'll be busy then? I'm guessing we won't have afternoon coffee, in that case." Enjolras actually sounds a little disappointed by it.

"We'll make up for it later."

"Oh, will we?" Enjolras lowers his voice with a smirk, and Grantaire can feel his ears burning.

"You're not allowed to do that when we don't have enough time together," Grantaire tells him. "But we'll see if I can make it up to you in advance when you get home tonight."

Enjolras holds him to it later, their noses brushing as they pant into each other's mouth. Their hands are wrapped around both their cocks and Grantaire rubs the pad of his thumb against the head of Enjolras' cock, enjoying the breathless gasps this earns him every time. 

When they've both come, Grantaire rolls on top of Enjolras, kissing him lazily and they lie there, sucking and nipping on each other's lips until they're swollen. When they're both hard again, they fuck each other's fists, slick with lube and unhurried from their previous orgasm. This time, once they've come, they're too exhausted to do anything but clean up and collapse into each other's arms, sleeping deeply.

It's the most rest Grantaire gets over the next few days because his commission request comes in the next morning. It's a big piece that's completely oil on canvas. It's Grantaire's favourite medium because of how messy it can be, making him feel directly involved in whatever he's painting.

This particular request requires Grantaire to paint a galaxy into the night sky, which gives him plenty of opportunity to show off his detail work. It's the kind of thing that Grantaire likes to work on without pause until it's done, which means that he spends the next few days almost entirely in his studio except for the breaks that Enjolras coaxes him into taking every now and then.

By the fourth day, Grantaire is so close to being finished that he pushes himself, not thinking about anything other than his painting. By the time he's done, it's late in the afternoon and he's utterly exhausted.

He calls Enjolras at the office, massaging his temples to stave off the headache that he can feel coming.

"Grantaire," Enjolras greets, soft and pleased. "Finished your painting?"

"Yeah." Sitting on the couch, Grantaire shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh. "Fuck I'm exhausted, though. Have you had your coffee yet?"

"Not yet. Stay at home if you're tired, though. We can have a movie night after I get home from work, if you'd like. Sit back and relax for a while."

"That sounds really good, actually. Pick up pizza on the way home and I'll blow you."

There's a crash of something being dropped on the other end and Enjolras lets out a choked, " _Grantaire_."

"Any kind of pizza you feel like, I'm not fussed. See you when you get home."

When Enjolras gets home from work a few hours later—with pizza—Grantaire's headache is gone and he has Die Hard in the DVD player, ready to go. He likes the movie but more importantly, it means he doesn't have to think very hard. He just wants to relax and enjoy Enjolras' company tonight.

They settle down on the couch with the box of pizza once Enjolras has changed out of his suit. They largely ignore the movie, talking over it instead. Enjolras lowers the volume until they can barely hear it and Grantaire moves the empty pizza box to the coffee table so he can slide closer to Enjolras, leaning into him.

Enjolras smiles, kissing Grantaire. "How are you feeling now?"

"Much better." Grantaire takes Enjolras' hand and squeezes. "I know it was just a few days, but I missed spending time with you. Is that dumb?"

Enjolras snorts quietly, shaking his head. "I missed you too."

Grantaire laughs self-consciously. "Is this a bond thing? The fact that we can't deal with not spending enough time with each other for a few days?"

"I don't think so," Enjolras replies quietly. "I… think that's just us."

Grantaire's smile is so wide that when he leans in for a kiss, they end up giving up and just rest their foreheads against each other and _grin_.

This is everything that he's wanted with Enjolras; it's _this_ love, this contentment, and when they finally pull each other close for a kiss, they don't stop. All the feelings that don't yet have words are said through the brush of their lips, the slide of their tongues. They break apart, gasping for breath, and Grantaire goes to his knees in front of Enjolras.

"You don't have to—" Enjolras begins uncertainly.

"I offered because I _wanted_ to." Resting his hands on Enjolras' knees, Grantaire bites his lip. "Is that okay?"

"God, Grantaire," Enjolras sighs, and that's all the encouragement he needs.

They're both inexperienced, but they don't let that get in their way. Grantaire pulls Enjolras' pants and briefs down to his knees and wraps a hand around his cock, holding it still as he licks the head of it. He licks down the entire length, enjoying the way it makes Enjolras gasp. He can't fit the entire length of it into his mouth but he sucks on what he can, stroking the rest of it. Enjolras seems to approve, judging by his moans, and that's all that Grantaire really needs. He tries to relax his throat, trying to take more of Enjolras' cock, but he quickly finds his limits. Grantaire doesn't mind; it just means he'll need more practice.

Enjolras has his fingers digging into the couch cushion to keep himself from grabbing hold of Grantaire's hair, and his moans are growing louder.

"Grantaire—" he gasps, pulling Grantaire's mouth off his cock. "I'm…"

"Yeah," Grantaire whispers, stroking Enjolras. "Come on."

Enjolras comes all over his hand with a cry of Grantaire's name. Without a moment's hesitation, Grantaire dips his head, licking Enjolras clean. Enjolras whimpers—with arousal, oversensitivity, or perhaps both—and pulls Grantaire back up onto the couch, undoing his pants with one hand.

Grantaire doesn't last long at all, already too worked up from sucking Enjolras off. They lean against each other on the couch, panting quietly, until Grantaire suggests, "Shower?"

They kiss under the warm spray, jerking each other off again, and crawl into bed with each other once they're dry, wrapped in each other's arms. 

Grantaire tucks his head under Enjolras' chin and shuts his eyes with a smile, realising that he is, in fact, _in love_ with his fiancé.

The best part is that he's almost certain it's mutual.

«·»

As much as they get along now, Grantaire and Enjolras aren't perfect. They still think differently, still look at the same situation from two entirely different angles, and their views still clash.

Their arguments, however, are nowhere near as bad as what they used to be. They've grown to understand each other now. They no longer provoke each other, and their arguments no longer make Grantaire feel like it's a personal failing on his part. If anything, it's a relief. Grantaire _likes_ debating with Enjolras; he likes watching Enjolras defend his points, constructing better arguments every time Grantaire manages to find a flaw. Enjolras is intelligent and passionate and this is all part of why Grantaire loves him so fiercely.

Their love is different to Marius and Cosette's, that much is clear from a glance. Grantaire doubts that Marius and Cosette have ever argued, much less that it's a core part of their relationship the way it is for him and Enjolras. It's interesting to see how different their relationships are even though they're both bonded, and Grantaire can barely imagine what it would be like to have a relationship without arguments, with adoring gazes and public displays of affection instead. He's glad he has Enjolras instead, stubborn, opinionated, and filled with more hope and optimism than Grantaire could ever hope to allow himself to feel.

It's no surprise when Marius asks Enjolras to be one of his groomsmen for the wedding, but Grantaire isn't expecting the same question to be asked of him, as much as Cosette insists that it was _obvious_. He accepts, with Combeferre and Courfeyrac making up the rest of the groomsmen and just like that, they're thrown into the wedding preparations and suit-fittings and it's more thought than either of them have given to their own wedding, which Grantaire now finds that he can't _stop_ thinking about.

"Should we start… I don't know, looking into places for our wedding?" Grantaire asks, feeling awkward, as Enjolras tries to organise Marius' bucks night, having taken the responsibility over from Courfeyrac in the interest of actually keeping Marius in one piece for the wedding. Grantaire's just glad that the wedding itself is going to be in the afternoon.

"I guess we should probably set a date," Enjolras replies, looking up at Grantaire. "Do you want to do that now?"

As much as Grantaire is sure that he loves Enjolras, and despite the fact that they've been living together for months, the thought of actually getting married is a terrifying one.

"Maybe later?" he suggests, and grins at the way Enjolras tries and fails to hide his relief. "It can wait. Whenever we're ready."

"Whenever we're ready," Enjolras repeats with a nod, reaching for Grantaire and pulling him closer. "No matter when that is. We don't need to stick to deadlines we set for ourselves back when we didn't even understand what we were doing. Regardless of what anyone else might have to say about that."

Grantaire runs his fingers through Enjolras' hair and leans in to kiss him. "I'll leave you to your planning, then. Just remember not to stress yourself out about this. We're just going out to have _fun_ before Marius gets married."

To his credit, Enjolras does organise a good night out. He's even booked them a hotel in town so they have a place to stay for the night and get ready before the wedding.

The two main things Grantaire remembers from the night are drinking, and never letting Enjolras out of arm's reach. He wakes up curled up against Enjolras, who is still dozing, somewhere halfway between asleep and awake. Marius is completely awake, pacing back and forth and freaking out about getting married while a slightly hungover Courfeyrac is trying to calm him down. Combeferre is watching, but has wisely made the decision not to step in. Grantaire decides to do the same.

"What if I'm no good for her?" Marius is asking, steadily becoming more panicked. "What if she wants a cat and I want a dog?"

"Compromise," Enjolras speaks up, fully awake now. He sits up in the bed he's sharing with Grantaire. "It's important to actually talk things out instead of just assuming you know what the other's thinking."

"Oh, yeah." Grantaire chuckles quietly. "Trust us on that one."

"Besides," Courfeyrac adds, "you're bonded with each other. You were literally born to be together. You'll work it out."

Grantaire catches the small smile Courfeyrac gives to Combeferre, equal parts adoring and terrified. He doesn't envy them, but if they can make their relationship work without being bonded, there's little reason for Marius to worry about Cosette. Grantaire resists the urge to say something to this effect and before he even can, Combeferre gets to his feet and looks around the room.

"So. How about brunch, before the photographer comes over to take pictures of us getting ready to go to the wedding"

Marius can barely eat, no matter what calming words they have for him. Courfeyrac steals half of his food, and half the food on Combeferre's plate as well.

"If you even try," Enjolras warns when he notices Grantaire eyeing his hash browns, "I can promise you that you'll lose a finger."

"You wouldn't do that to me, I'd never stop complaining about it," Grantaire says sweetly, and steals a sip of Enjolras' apple juice instead.

The photographer arrives soon after they get back to their room, and they get ready fairly quickly. The photographer is focusing on Marius as he puts his suit jacket on, and Grantaire takes the time to reach into the overnight bag he's brought with him, fingers closing around the small box at the bottom. 

He hasn't looked at his engagement ring since he'd first taken it off, months ago. There's a tiny polishing cloth folded in the box and Grantaire takes it out, running it over the ring. The silver shines that much brighter and Grantaire immediately stops. He doesn't want this to be a big thing and part of him is hoping that Enjolras won't even notice at all.

He puts the cloth back into the box and hides it back in his bag, sliding the ring onto his finger. Of course, just as Grantaire thinks that he's gotten away without anyone noticing, Enjolras turns to him with a small frown. Grantaire balls his hand into a fist, as if that will hide the ring, as if it will do anything other than draw Enjolras' attention.

" _Oh_ ," Enjolras breathes, immediately reaching for Grantaire's hand. "Oh, R."

It's not actually as embarrassing as Grantaire had feared, but that's mostly because he's too busy smiling. Enjolras lifts Grantaire's hand to his lips, kissing it, tugging him closer and kissing him.

They grin into their kiss, noses brushing against each other as they pull apart. They stay right there in each other's arms, until Combeferre clears his throat quietly.

Marius and Courfeyrac are watching with wide grins and Combeferre gives them both an amused look before saying, "We should finish getting ready before we're late."

"Right," Enjolras says quietly, looking embarrassed even though he can't quite keep the grin off his face. He takes hold of the bow tie around Grantaire's neck and lifts his collar to do it up.

"You'd better not show me up at my own wedding," Marius warns, even as he motions for the photographer to take a picture of them.

"With the way you and Cosette look at each other?" Grantaire asks, finally dragging his gaze away from Enjolras. "I don't think that's even possible."

The ceremony itself is as beautiful as Grantaire expects it to be, but his favourite thing is the way Enjolras keeps stealing kisses whenever they have a spare moment together, and the fact that he doesn't stop smiling once.

They're exhausted by the reception, after the long ceremony and photos and the speeches. Enjolras gives one with Courfeyrac, and Grantaire enjoys hearing him give speeches; he always knows exactly what to say and Grantaire has always loved his voice, loud, clear and confident no matter what he's talking about.

They're sitting beside each other as Marius and Cosette have their first dance and Grantaire knows that he should be paying attention to them, but it's difficult when Enjolras takes his hand, playing with his ring. In all the months of Enjolras wearing his own ring, Grantaire hasn't seen him play with it _once_ , but he can't seem to leave Grantaire's alone. Grantaire is not particularly inclined to stop him.

"Your cheeks are going to start hurting if you smile any harder," Combeferre tells them, laughing quietly.

Enjolras rubs a hand over his face. "You say that like I haven't been trying to stop. God, this is embarrassing. And entirely your fault, Grantaire."

"Happy to take the blame," Grantaire murmurs, kissing Enjolras' shoulder. "And if anyone asks, you can just tell them that you've had a bit too much to drink."

"Little easier to explain than _my fiancé put his engagement ring on_. Ugh, that sounds utterly ridiculous."

"You are more adorable than you have any right to be," Grantaire murmurs, as others begin to join Marius and Cosette on the dance floor. "And I am so ridiculously in love with you, Enjolras. Dance with me?" 

Enjolras stares at him, speechless. Grantaire chuckles, knowing just how rare an occurrence that is. He takes Enjolras' hand, deliberately making their rings clink against each other, and leads the way onto the dance floor.

"My _boss_ is here," Enjolras mutters, as they wrap their arms around each other.

"He's not your boss, he's Cosette's father." Grantaire smiles. "His daughter's getting married, I don't think he's going to give a fuck about what you do."

This startles a laugh out of Enjolras, who tightens his grip on Grantaire's waist. "I love you too, you know."

"Yeah." Grantaire's cheeks actually do hurt from all the smiling now. "I know."

"Hey, look," Enjolras murmurs, and Grantaire follows his line of sight to where Courfeyrac is pulling Combeferre onto the dance floor with a bright grin. Combeferre is ducking his head, looking embarrassed, and Courfeyrac is saying something they're too far away to hear. Whatever it is, it makes Combeferre laugh, visibly relaxing and pulling Courfeyrac closer.

Enjolras nods at them with a smile before turning back to Grantaire and raising an eyebrow. "What's that look for?"

Grantaire shakes his head and presses a light kiss to Enjolras' lips. "Nothing. I just… really love you, okay?"

Enjolras murmurs it right back, taking Grantaire's hand into his own and playing with his ring again. It's the best day of Grantaire's entire life and it isn't even _his_ wedding day.

«·»

Grantaire and Enjolras start planning their own wedding, but once Enjolras brings up the matter of settling their bond, they both become quickly distracted. A wedding is just ceremony, but taking that last step and becoming entirely connected is something that truly requires them to be ready for it. Neither of them are entirely there just yet.

Despite that, Grantaire quickly develops a habit of musing about exactly _how_ they're going to settle their bond. The more inappropriate the time and place, the better. He'll make a casual remark right into Enjolras' ear when they're out doing the grocery shopping together, or when Enjolras is about to start a social justice meeting. They're short suggestions like, _what if you held me down_ , or, _what if you tied me up_ , or, _what if I tied_ you _up_ , and their entire purpose is to leave Enjolras distracted and frustrated. They might not be settling their bond just yet, but they definitely spend more time in bed than they did before. 

They're more comfortable with each other now than either of them even thought they could be. Grantaire loves it, especially when it means Enjolras coming out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel slung around his hips. When all Grantaire needs to do is put his book down and beckon, and Enjolras loses the towel, joining Grantaire on the bed.

"I was thinking," Enjolras murmurs as he lies down beside Grantaire, "that we should at least come up with a list of guests for the wedding, or something."

"Or something." Grantaire scoffs quietly, rolling onto his side and holding Enjolras' chin, kissing him. "Do you really want a big, elaborate wedding? Be honest with me."

"No…"

"Well, neither do I. And I think that's why we've been so bad at planning this. Neither of us actually _want_ to. We'll just do something small and quiet instead." Grantaire laughs quietly and runs his hand through Enjolras' hair. "Well. As quiet as anything can be when you're involved. My point is, we don't need a big wedding. We'll do things the way _we_ want. Even if that just means going to the registry office and signing our papers."

"Your parents won't be pleased."

"Oh, they'll be _furious_." Grantaire laughs, lightly scratching the nape of Enjolras' neck, right where he likes it best. "But we'll deal with that later, yeah?"

Enjolras hums in agreement, pressing back into Grantaire's fingers. He sighs as Grantaire scratches a little harder. "R…"

"I've got an idea. Roll over." Grantaire places a hand on Enjolras' hip, rolling him over to lie on his stomach.

"What are you—" Enjolras' breath hitches as Grantaire kisses the nape of his neck, lips a gentle pressure until Grantaire scrapes his teeth over the soft skin instead. Enjolras moans quietly and Grantaire does it again. He bites down Enjolras' neck and then kisses his way further down Enjolras' back, running his hands over the soft, warm skin.

"Up," Grantaire whispers, helping Enjolras onto his hands and knees.

Enjolras is trembling with anticipation. He knows what's coming, but that doesn't stop his gasp when Grantaire spreads him open, tongue flicking over his entrance. Grantaire does it again with broad licks this time. He pulls back, rubbing small circles with his thumb instead.

"Is this—"

"It's good," Enjolras replies, already a little breathless. "Keep going. Please."

Grantaire grins, and does. He licks into Enjolras slowly, waiting for him to relax, wetting his index and sliding it into Enjolras along with his tongue.

"Grantaire, _Grantaire_." Enjolras' voice is high and desperate, his fingers digging into the bed sheets. "Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Please, please."

Grantaire swears low and rough, palming his own cock through his pyjama pants. "You sure?"

Enjolras only hesitates for a moment, but that says enough. Grantaire sighs with an odd sense of relief, but Enjolras lets out a growl of frustration.

"It's okay, we don't have to. Look. What if I just…" Reaching for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, Grantaire slicks his fingers. "How about this?"

Enjolras nods eagerly and he must be close, but Grantaire is slow and careful anyway. He slides one finger into Enjolras and waits until he's ready before adding the second. He crooks them gently and Enjolras gasps, turning his face into his arm to muffle his soft moans

"Mm, I thought you'd like that," Grantaire murmurs, leaning over Enjolras to speak right against his ear. "You know what, I think that when we do it, I want you in me. I want you fucking me nice and slow, just like this, until I can't take it any more and I need you to go faster. Harder."

"And then?" Enjolras' voice is trembling with how badly he needs to come.

"And then…" Grantaire thrusts his fingers into Enjolras a little harder this time, curling his fingers and searching for the right spot.

He knows he's found it when Enjolras lets out a loud cry, wrapping his fingers around his cock.

"Ah-ah." Grantaire bats Enjolras' hand aside with his free one, replacing it with his own. He doesn't tease now, pulling his fingers out of Enjolras and stroking him to completion.

" _Grantaire_." Enjolras collapses on the bed once he's come, rolling onto his back. He pulls Grantaire closer, tugging his pyjama pants down.

"You don't have to—" Grantaire begins, but Enjolras ignores him, wrapping a hand around him and stroking without pause until Grantaire's coming with Enjolras' name on his lips.

"I'm going to need another shower," Enjolras murmurs, sitting up and kissing Grantaire. "Are you joining me?"

Grantaire laughs at that. "You're seriously _asking_?"

They end up standing under the hot spray of the shower, too tired to do anything but wash themselves off and kiss. Enjolras presses his lips to Grantaire's shoulder when they're back in bed, warm under the covers.

"Soon." It's both a question and a promise.

Grantaire nods, shifting a little closer to Enjolras and closing his eyes. "Yeah. I think so."

In fact, they're on the couch together a few nights later and Grantaire reaches over to undo Enjolras' pants and jerk him off when Enjolras stops him, hand around Grantaire's wrist, and says, "We could go to bed. If you want."

It takes Grantaire half a second to figure out what Enjolras is really asking. He raises an eyebrow. "Do _you_ want to? You're sure?"

Enjolras gets to his feet and offers Grantaire a hand. "I'm sure. Let's get this bond settled."

This is another thing they've learned plenty about in school. They know that a completely settled bond brings two people together entirely; it takes away the irritating white noise whenever they're apart but it means that their happiness depends on the other person being happy too. It's the kind of closeness that makes them a little codependent but as far as Grantaire's concerned, they're already getting there themselves. There can't be much that a settled bond can change.

Enjolras undresses Grantaire slowly, his nervousness betrayed only by the way he keeps wetting his lips. 

Grantaire laughs and kisses him. "Relax. We've done most of this before anyway. This is going to be fine."

Enjolras nods, undressing as well. He spreads Grantaire out on the bed, kissing him all over, from his lips down to his chest, his wrists, one kiss to each palm.

"I love you," Enjolras tells him, quiet but confident.

"Love you too. How do you want me?"

"Just like this," Enjolras replies immediately, sounding entirely sure of himself. Grantaire bites back his grin, wondering just how often Enjolras has thought about it. "I want to see you. Is that okay?"

"More than okay," Grantaire replies, pulling Enjolras down for a kiss. "Condom?"

"For now." Enjolras licks his lips. "We're both clean and we're exclusive, so…"

Grantaire's lips spread into a wide grin. "Renegotiate later, then?"

Enjolras nods in reply, grinning himself.

"Do you want me to get myself all nice and ready for you?" Grantaire offers, enjoying the way that makes Enjolras' breath hitch.

"I want you to show me what you like," Enjolras replies. "Teach me."

"Fuck, Enjolras," Grantaire groans. He reaches to the bedside table for the bottle of lube. "Here. Give me your hand."

They take their time with each other, Enjolras learning exactly what Grantaire likes best. He has three fingers in Grantaire, moving torturously slow, while he strokes Grantaire's cock to the same rhythm. Grantaire loves it, loves the strange mix of pleasure and frustration, loves the fact that Enjolras understands perfectly without Grantaire even needing to say a single world.

Then Enjolras' fingers brush against Grantaire's prostate by accident and he comes with a surprised shout, arching off the bed with wide eyes.

Enjolras swears quietly and Grantaire laughs, blissful and breathless, pulling him down into a kiss. "Come on, Enjolras. I thought you were going to fuck me."

"Oh, I will," Enjolras murmurs, reaching for the box of condoms they'd bought a few days ago. He grins down at Grantaire as he rolls a condom on. Grantaire feels ridiculous to be this breathless with anticipation.

Enjolras is patient and gentle with Grantaire, going as slow as he needs to. Grantaire doesn't mind if it hurts, but Enjolras is having none of that. 

With Enjolras inside him, arms around him, faces so close they can feel each other's breath, it doesn't take long for Grantaire's cock to start swelling with interest again. Enjolras wraps his hand around it, not quite stroking just yet. He thrusts into Grantaire a little faster, kissing him and swallowing down his quiet gasp of pleasure. Enjolras is close—Grantaire can tell from the small moans he tries to hold back—and he holds Grantaire by the hips, fucking into him even harder.

Grantaire moans, encouraging him, wordlessly begging for more, _more_ , until Enjolras is coming with a loud moan, his fist sliding over Grantaire's cock, jerking him off so that he follows soon after.

They pull apart, collapsing onto the bed beside each other, chests rising and falling as they regain their breath.

"How do you feel?" Enjolras asks, pressing his lips to Grantaire's forehead. "Any different?"

"I feel pretty fucking great," Grantaire replies with a grin. "Not really feeling any changes to the bond, though."

Enjolras hums in thought, grabbing a towel to wipe them both clean and throwing his condom out. "Maybe it takes a while?"

"Maybe." Grantaire pulls Enjolras back into bed and kisses him. "We'll see, I guess."

As they lie in each other's arms, Grantaire decides that he doesn't really care what might change now that their bond has been settled. The important thing is that they're together, and this is what they want.

«·»

They wake up the next morning completely wrapped around each other. Grantaire stays right where he is, content to be pressed up against Enjolras' side.

Enjolras wakes up not long after, greeting Grantaire with a kiss to the forehead and a smile. He doesn't seem particularly keen to get out of bed either, so they don't bother just yet. Things don't feel too different, other than the fact that Grantaire feels the constant desire to be near Enjolras. It's not too different to before, but Grantaire is glad for the fact that they've gotten here on their own terms.

They only really notice that there's something wrong when they've finished eating breakfast and Grantaire goes upstairs for a shower. He intends to take his time, letting the hot water relax his muscles. He ends up cutting it short halfway through, because he can no longer ignore the pressing urge to be touching Enjolras.

He gets out of the shower to find Enjolras pacing in their bedroom. He looks up, taking in the troubled expression on Grantaire's face and asks, "You too?"

Grantaire reaches for Enjolras and the moment their hands touch, the pressure at the back of his mind instantly disappears. They both sigh in unison.

"This isn't good," Grantaire murmurs. He lets go of Enjolras' hand and almost immediately takes hold of it again. "Really not good."

"This will fade, right?" Enjolras looks at their joined hands. "Not that I don't _want_ to be near you as often as possible, but…"

"Kind of makes it difficult to get anything done if we're going to be needing constant contact." Grantaire hums in thought. "Right. I'm giving Cosette a call."

"Cosette?"

"She and Marius would know what it's like to have a settled bond. They can tell us if this is going to be a permanent thing from now on. Which… I love you, but I really hope it's not."

Enjolras laughs quietly. "My thoughts exactly."

Cosette comes over with Marius in tow half an hour later. Grantaire's heart sinks when he seems them holding hands but Cosette takes one look at the way he and Enjolras are holding hands and makes a happy sound. 

"Congratulations on settling your bond!"

"We're not exactly celebrating yet." Grantaire lifts the hand holding Enjolras'. "Did this happen to you?"

"Oh, yes. Don't look so worried about it. I promise it goes away soon. I think it took us half a day?"

Marius nods. "It's just the bond sorting itself out. Once it goes away, everything goes back to normal."

"Oh, that's good to hear," Enjolras murmurs. "Thank you."

"Not a problem! How are the wedding plans coming along?"

"We're… ah, planning a small thing," Enjolras replies.

"A mostly non-existent thing," Grantaire adds. "We didn't really see the point."

"So you're just signing the papers?" Cosette asks. "That's it?"

"And a small dinner with friends afterwards." Grantaire turns to Enjolras with a smile. "That's all we really need."

"As long as you're both happy, right?" Marius smiles at them both. "That's the important thing, and it's really obvious that you are."

They need to leave shortly after to have lunch with Valjean. Grantaire and Enjolras see them out and the moment that the door is shut, Grantaire turns to Enjolras.

"Get a book." 

Enjolras turns to him with a frown. "What?"

"I said get a book. Something you can sit down and read for a few hours. Until this whole need to touch each other thing wears off."

Enjolras raises an eyebrow. "Why…?"

"Because until it _does_ wear off," Grantaire replies, leading the way upstairs to grab the novel that he's been meaning to start, "we're going to sit on the couch and I'm going to cuddle the fuck out of you."

Enjolras laughs quietly, grabbing a legal textbook from his study. They while the afternoon away on the couch, reading for the most part, but it's so comfortable in Enjolras' arms that Grantaire puts his book down, resting his head on Enjolras' shoulder and taking a nap instead.

When Grantaire wakes up, they're both lying on the couch, with Enjolras beneath him, still asleep. He gets up cautiously, relieved when he is not immediately hit by the urge to touch Enjolras again. He goes into the kitchen, making a cup of coffee for himself, and one for Enjolras too.

He's just about finished when Enjolras wakes with a quiet, "Grantaire…?"

"I'm right here," Grantaire replies, walking back into the lounge and placing Enjolras' mug on the coffee table. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Enjolras smiles, sitting up. He presses his lips to Grantaire's. "I like doing this more when I'm doing it because I _want_ to."

Grantaire hums in agreement, sitting down beside Enjolras. Neither of them have any plans for the rest of the evening and Grantaire is prepared to have a quiet, blissful night in.

Of course, that's when Grantaire's parents call and invite themselves over for dinner.

"We were just concerned," Grantaire's mother says as they sit at the dinner table, eating the meal that Grantaire had thrown together at the last minute. "We haven't heard anything about your wedding and it's meant to be soon. By the end of the month, if I remember correctly. That's three weeks away and you haven't even sent your invitations out yet. Enjolras, dear, you'll tell me if my son's causing you trouble and holding everything up, won't you? He's always been so contrary. I don't know how you've been able to put up with him for this long."

Grantaire sees Enjolras' jaw clench before he clears his throat and says, "No, there is absolutely nothing wrong with Grantaire. I'll thank you to remember that this is my _fiancé_ you're talking about."

"And he's been our son for a lot longer than that," Grantaire's father dismisses. "No need to try and defend him."

Enjolras turns to Grantaire with a look of utter disbelief. Grantaire simply shrugs and says, "There isn't going to be a wedding. We're getting our papers signed and that's it."

"Unacceptable," Grantaire's mother says sharply. "Typical of you, to only think of yourself and take the laziest way out—"

"It was a joint decision," Enjolras cuts in, beginning to raise his voice. "Taking both of our interests into consideration."

"Pure laziness, if you ask me," Grantaire's father grunts.

"Funnily enough," Grantaire speaks up, "we didn't ask you at all. Considering that it's _our_ business, not yours."

"You don't get to talk to me like that, boy. You'd better remember who paid for the house you both live in, you ungrateful little shit."

Before Grantaire can even respond, Enjolras slams his fist down on the table, making everything rattle.

"Don't you _dare_ speak to him like that," Enjolras snarls, rising to his feet. "He owes you nothing, and nobody has the right to make him feel like he isn't worth their time and effort, which is all that I've heard you do since you've arrived."

"Careful how you speak to me."

"You are in _our_ house, so I suggest that you watch yourselves very carefully. And I would strongly suggest that you leave and do not return. I promise you that you will regret it otherwise."

Grantaire's mother makes an indignant sound, rising to her feet. She looks at Grantaire. "Well? Are you just going to sit there in silence?"

"What do you want me to say?" Grantaire asks and nods towards the hall. "Pretty sure you know where the door is. Bye."

Grantaire's father leads the way out, slamming the door behind them. Enjolras waits until they hear the car driving away before he lets out a heavy sigh. 

Grantaire gets up, touching Enjolras' hand. They look at each other, and Enjolras pulls Grantaire into his arms. "I'm sorry."

"For the fact that my parents are assholes? Not really your fault."

Enjolras snorts quietly. "Are you okay?"

"Weirdly turned on, actually. Seeing you that angry was kind of hot."

" _Grantaire_. I'm being serious here."

"I'm fine, I promise. Thank you. I love you so much I might have to marry you or something."

Enjolras laughs, shaking his head. "Funny, that."

"We're inviting your mother to be our witness when we get married," Grantaire decides with a bright smile. "Because she's awesome. And because that might piss my parents off just enough that they won't bother us again. How's that for a wedding present to ourselves?"

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Enjolras asks carefully.

"The way they talk to me when you're around? That's basically how they've always treated me. No matter what I do or what I'm good at, it's never quite enough. I don't need them. I've had as little to do with them as possible since I could move out. Besides, I have you now, and that's much better."

"Yes, that's true." Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire tightly. "You have me."

Enjolras gets their wedding organised with an efficiency that would be frightening if Grantaire didn't know him so well. He has the date set for the last Saturday of the month, and they both know exactly what they're going to wear. They don't need to prepare any vows and the only thing left to do is buy their rings.

Neither of them want anything particularly fancy, so they decide on plain gold bands with each other's names engraved on the inside. Enjolras doesn't have time to go on a honeymoon with all the work he has to do and Grantaire isn't particularly fussed on it anyway. He's getting married to Enjolras. Anything more than that is just a bonus.

Much to Courfeyrac's disappointment, neither of them have a bucks night, deciding to spend the Friday night before their wedding at home with each other instead.

"One last date night before we get married," Grantaire declares, letting Enjolras pick a movie, completely unsurprised when he decides on a black and white indie film. 

It's short but good, and that doesn't surprise Grantaire either. They let the credits roll until the screen goes blank, neither of them particularly keen on leaving each other's arms where they're lying on the couch. Grantaire is playing with Enjolras' ring, slowly and carefully twisting it off, trying to keep Enjolras from noticing. He's nearly got it the entire way off when Enjolras looks at him with a small smile.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, it's kind of occurred to me," Grantaire replies, getting off the couch and down on one knee. "I know we're getting married and everything, but neither of us have actually _proposed_."

"Grantaire…"

Holding Enjolras' ring up, Grantaire grins. "Marry me?"

Enjolras opens his mouth, shuts it, and laughs. "I'll think about it."

"You'll _think_ about it!" Grantaire repeats, clutching his chest.

"I don't know." Enjolras smiles. "I'm busy. I have this thing tomorrow."

Grantaire laughs, leaning up to press his lips to Enjolras'. "You're supposed to say _yes_ , you asshole."

"Am I?" Enjolras kisses him back. "Can I have my ring back now, please?"

"Not yet."

"Fine." Enjolras sighs heavily, the effect ruined by the fact that he's still smiling. He pulls Grantaire up, back into his lap, kissing his lips, his chin, his cheeks, anything he can reach, murmuring, "Yes, yes yes, _yes_."

Grantaire slides the ring back onto Enjolras' fingers, pressing his lips to it.

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Grantaire doesn't think he could stop smiling even if he tried. "Like you wouldn't fucking believe."

"Oh, I think I might," Enjolras murmurs, his hands settling on Grantaire's hips. "Bed?"

" _Fuck yes_. One last night in bed with you. From tomorrow on, I'm going to have to go to bed with my _husband_."

Enjolras snorts. "Your life must be so hard."

" _So hard_ ," Grantaire repeats with a smirk, leading the way upstairs.

"Grantaire," Enjolras sighs, more amused than exasperated.

"You love me," Grantaire declares, overjoyed by the fact that he doesn't even doubt it.

"I do." Enjolras walks him backwards towards the bed, pushing him to lie down, smiling at him. "I really, really do."

When Enjolras fucks him this time, he leaves Grantaire utterly breathless. He's so much more familiar with Grantaire's body than the first time they'd done this. Now, he's learned exactly where Grantaire likes to be touched, how hard he likes being fucked. He knows how much Grantaire loves it when Enjolras doesn't let him come, getting him most of the way there and then slowing down, until Grantaire's begging for more.

They fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms, blissfully exhausted. When Grantaire wakes up, it's their wedding day, Enjolras is already getting dressed, and it's pouring with rain outside.

"Damn," Grantaire sighs, sitting up. "Good thing we're not having an outdoors wedding, right?"

Enjolras hums in agreement, looking out of the window as he buttons his shirt up. Grantaire kisses his cheek on the way to the bathroom. By the time he's showered and come back out, Enjolras is still standing at the window.

"Oh, Enjolras." Grantaire wraps his arms around Enjolras' waist, chin resting on his shoulder. "It's just rain."

"It's our wedding day."

"Exactly," Grantaire replies, kissing Enjolras' neck. "It's our fucking _wedding day_. A little bit of rain isn't going to stop us. I'll brighten your day. I promise. Just finish getting dressed, okay? I refuse to sign any papers unless you're wearing a perfect windsor knot. I _do_ have standards, you know."

"A perfect windsor, you say."

Grantaire grins sheepishly, holding his own tie up. "Do mine too?"

Enjolras laughs, taking the ends of Grantaire's green tie. Grantaire counts it as a victory. Enjolras does his own tie up—a bright red silk tie Grantaire had bought him—and they put their suit jackets on.

"Ready?" Enjolras asks, as they pocket their ring boxes. 

"Almost. I'll meet you at the door. I just need to grab one more thing."

Enjolras doesn't ask, waiting by the door. He raises an eyebrow when Grantaire comes downstairs carrying a lime green umbrella.

"You know, when you said that you'd brighten my day, I really didn't think you meant your words quite so literally."

"Don't tell me you're actually surprised."

Enjolras huffs quietly, opening the door. "Of course not."

Luckily, the rain begins to subside as they drive to the wedding registry office. The rain is still constant, but much lighter than the downpour it was when they woke.

"I told my mother to look for your umbrella," Enjolras says as Grantaire parks the car. "At least it makes us easy to find."

Enjolras' mother kisses both of them on the cheek in greeting when they meet her. She's dressed in an elegant red coat with her camera around her neck. She snaps a few pictures of the two of them before Grantaire pulls her under the umbrella, linking their arms together and feeling grateful for the fact that his umbrella's big enough for all three of them.

"I'm going to enjoy having you as a son-in-law," Enjolras' mother declares, and it's all Grantaire can do to keep himself from getting choked up. Enjolras reaches over, squeezing Grantaire's arm, giving him a fond look.

The actual wedding itself is short and simple. They're married in less than half an hour, Enjolras' mother snapping photos as they exchange wedding rings. Grantaire is smiling so much that he doesn't think he'll ever stop—neither of them can even stop for long enough to kiss properly.

They walk Enjolras' mother to her car before walking back to theirs, arms wrapped around each other.

"Still bothered by the rain?" Grantaire asks as they buckle themselves in. 

Enjolras leans across to kiss Grantaire. "Not one single bit."

They need to get home and dry off. They need to change into more comfortable clothes for the dinner they're having that evening with their friends. Grantaire decides all of that can wait. For now, he takes Enjolras' face into both of his hands, kissing and kissing him until they're both out of breath. Then he does it all over again.

Everything else can wait. They have the rest of their lives together anyway.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [seven](https://archiveofourown.org/works/822097) by [jayeinacross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayeinacross/pseuds/jayeinacross)




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